My Darling Raven

Dearest Rachel –

I will never stop saying it, because it will never not be true: it’s the little things that you miss the most, now that you’re gone.

This morning, I’m working in the booth at church. Not for the first time since you left, but every time has its little differences. This time, I woke up hungry: not having eaten since maybe 1 pm yesterday might have something to do with that. So I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a snack to take with me and eat once I was settled in the back room.

I actually didn’t get that far; the hot stuff I set into my cup holders and ate on the way.

But now that I’m here, finishing my donut and orange juice, I can’t help but think about the old days that aren’t all that old. We’d all go together (today, Daniel is coming here in your car – I hope he can deal with it. Not that he has a problem with the car itself; it’s just that he’ll be driving your car for the first time since… well…), you’d drop me off at the church, and the two of you would drive on to Dunkin’ (a different location past the church, but not that far away). You’d grab breakfast for yourselves and me, and drive back, and you would visit the booth amid the lulls in rehearsal, and drop off my portion, and take a kiss or two in payment.

I would often refer to you as my ‘raven’ when you did that, like the birds bringing Elijah food by the Kedar during the time of famine in Israel. It was just a little ritual we had that no other family did.

And I miss it so much today.

Sure, I can get my own food, like I did this morning. And when I do, I probably get it hotter than if I was to wait for you to bring it to me. But the little effort you made to get it, bring it, and kiss me like I was off to work (which I guess I kinda was – and you were off to the nursery or the service, whichever schedule you were on), that was such an affirmation of your love.

And yet, we made it such a routine that I think I may have taken it for granted. Like the kiss we gave each other every morning when I would head off to the office, it was just… what happened every morning, or in this case, every week. We – at least, I – didn’t give it much thought. It was just something that was every bit as normal as the sky.

But now, my darling raven, as you fly through that ‘normal’ sky, spare a thought for us, and the routine that isn’t anymore.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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