Dear Brian (November 2026)
Dear Brian,
In a few days, it will be fifteen years since you left this earth. Fifteen years is a lifetime: you were just nineteen. November 12th and the aftermath of the days that followed are forever etched in the hearts of the lives you touched. I’ve learned that time does not heal all wounds, but it provides a softening barrier for the wounds that are left behind.
This is the time of year when I miss you more. I think about the last time I saw your sparkling blue eyes, the last time I heard your voice, and all the other last times we had together, not realizing that time would be our last.
Because of you, I try to be better at life. You’ve taught me to love more, to listen without judging, and sometimes to accept things that may be unacceptable. Because of you, I can do hard things, and I’ve learned that I am braver and stronger than I ever believed.
Through everything I have learned over the years, one thing I know for certain: you are here with me, watching me, guiding me, telling me it’s okay. Thank you for the signs, the reminders, and nudges along the way. I know that you know that we’ve done this all together because I couldn’t have done it without you. Together, we’ve built a community for others like me, sharing a space and tissue boxes with people who are grieving. We’ve started and continue to have conversations with anyone who will listen about mental health. Reminding them that sometimes it’s okay not to be okay.
You’ve helped me better understand depression and anxiety. I didn’t know about it back then, but I do now. Maybe together we’re helping at least one person or making a difference in one life and together we can help people who are in the darkness find the light that is waiting for them.
They say things happen for a reason, though I am not sure I believe that is true. But I do know that my life has been woven into a beautiful tapestry of color, and you, my beautiful boy, are the thread that is brightly woven throughout this masterpiece called life.
Love,
Mom