Unexpressed Gratitude

Dear Stephen and Karen,

I often feel that words and even memories are not sufficient enough ways to measure a person’s impact. I read recently of an author’s notion that words could not truly encapsulate an emotion, and that even a word like ‘love,’ which feels monumental at times, is belittling an overwhelming emotion into a single word.

I feel the effects of your absences at odd times. I had too little time with either of you to feel the gaping absence of your losses as I know my mother and my brothers did. For me, it wasn't so much that I felt like my life was suddenly empty. For me, the world was duller and crueler without you.

Stephen, you were the first person I really mourned, and I feel the ghost of that grief even now. I still remember the last moments between us, how it marked the last time I would remember going to bed happy for years. Once, my mom had us write letters to our grandfather after he passed. We tied them to balloons and sent them towards heaven. Ten years too late, this is my letter for you.

I am, above all else, so grateful for how happy you made my mom. If the divorce was a tidal wave, and we were all still trying to remain afloat, you were her life preserver, and by extension, ours. I remember well a voicemail sent to me by my grandmother on my dad’s side, expressing her condolences and saying that she heard you were a good man. I don’t know if there could be a bigger demonstration of your joviality and cheer that to emphasize how it reached both sides of my split family. There was peace between them while you were here, and selfishly, I think that that was what I mourned almost as much as I mourned your spirit.

It is with great joy that I remember the times we had together. I think of the time I dropped a bucket off your boat, and it sank to the bottom. I felt so bad, and I was sure that I was going to get in so much trouble, but you just laughed and said there were more buckets. I also remember the raffle at the boathouse where we tried Italian Wedding Soup for the first time, and it became the only soup I liked for years. You were the reason I ever got to go to the US open because you convinced my mom we could go. I wish I had more memories with you. I’ve tried to preserve the way you said your last name in my brain so that I never forget your voice, but it’s much fainter than it used to be.

The sorrow of losing you shaped me almost as much as you did, maybe even more at times because I only knew you for a year, but I mourned you for many more, and you continue to hold a place in my heart. There was a blackness I began to sink into after you passed. I had gone to sleep happy, and when I woke they said you were gone. I felt the sadness of songs, of plays much deeper than before, and I cried every night while your pocketwatch lay at my bedside. I don’t even think at the time, I really understood why I was crying.

Now my grief has changed into a quiet sadness at what could have been and an immense joy at what was. I smile at mentions of your name and small stories my mom shares that I didn’t know about. You continue to represent that joy and hope that you brought into my life, and I hope I continue to carry my grief because I never got to tell you what you really meant to me, but the tears that prick my eyes even now prove that what I felt was real. I am so grateful to have had you in my life, even if it was only for a year. Even if it wasn’t legally the case, I will always refer to you as my stepfather. I love you, Stephen.

Karen, you were another case of someone taken far too soon and someone whom I regret not pulling closer while you were still here. I will never forget how you visited me when I was at my worst and how you gave me books and wrote me sweet messages even though we had no technical relation.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude towards you as a person without mentioning how amazing you were for my brothers. I don’t think I really understood how special you really were until I felt you ripped away and watched how that affected them. I watched my brother read my letter to you in Scotland as they live-streamed your memorial service, and I sobbed not just for you, but for the unending sorrow I saw in my brother.

I still hear the sound of your voice and how you always sounded like you were seconds away from laughing. I wish I had more memories with you, but I know you wouldn’t want my thoughts of you to be ones of regret.

My words feel unworthy of you because it is impossible to describe how good you were. If that phrase of God taking the best of us because he’s plucking the most beautiful flowers is true, then you are its embodiment. I’m so relieved I got a chance to tell you that I love you, that I was grateful for you, and that you are my stepmom.

This letter is scattered and disjointed because grief and gratitude, as well as happiness and regret are intertwined. What I really wish to say is that I am grateful to have known you both, and my love for you both is endless.

Love always and forever,

Samantha