The Pit of Despair

Dear Jack,

A year ago yesterday was your baptism. I celebrate that and I am so happy to have that day to remember. But this year, today overshadowed it. A year ago today was the last time we saw your Uncle James.

I could only think of one way to honor him today. So yesterday, on the way home from work, I called your dad and asked him to buy some spray paint.

No, I was not going to do graffiti in honor of your uncle.

I wanted to paint the pit.

The Pit of Despair.

It was your uncle's housewarming present to your dad when we moved in to this house in '03. He had just learned to weld and was looking at some old pipes one day and thought, "I could make a barbecue pit" out of those. So he did.

A year ago, your uncle showed up at our house for your baptism and after the service, one of the first things he did was check on the pit and show it off to his wife and son. Your dad had made sure to give the pit a new coat of paint the week before, just in time for your uncle's visit.

For lunch that day, Uncle James grilled for us. I don't even remember what we ate; I just remember this image of your dad, your uncle, your grandpa and your great grandpa all by the grill.

I miss your uncle a lot, but I know there are so many who miss him even more than I do. It's hard to know what to say on those days, like his birthday, or Memorial Day, to your grandma, or your Aunt Rachel. I want them to know that we miss him, too, but I also want to acknowledge that it's not the same, losing a brother (or brother-in-law) verses losing a husband or a son.

So today was my day to miss him. And since I did, I painted the pit for him.

Grief is a strange thing, I know.

You may find someday that you feel a little sad at the idea of this awesome uncle you never got to meet. That feeling will be grief. Grief for something you never got to have. And when you feel that way, you let me know, and I'll let you paint the pit that year.

Love,
Mom