Leaving the TARDIS Door Open

Dearest Rachel –

This morning, as I went to check my itinerary to determine where in Cologne our shore excursion was likely to take us through, I found this in my email, and realized that I had overlooked the fact that this year’s convention was already long-since paid for:

Of course, we had put in our reservations at the end of Chicago Tardis 2019, and – since the convention had fallen through due to the pandemic – our admission was carried forward to the following year.

It never even crossed my mind.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I’ve been getting periodic updates ever since we registered two years ago about how things were going for the convention, and who might be attending (or would that be ‘Who’ might be attending?). But it wasn’t the sort of thing that I paid attention to, as you were the true Whovian of the family. I confess, I went along as a hanger-on, ever since you introduced me to the show back in college. In fact, we actually attended a panel on the last day of the 2019 convention that was basically geared toward those whose significant others were Whovians, and how to deal with such a situation. I had so much to say about the topic that the panelists actually invited me to the table to join them, which seemed to amuse you.

Sure, I enjoyed the show – and I had a fair amount of the lore down, which made me a fairly entertaining guest panelist – but I wasn’t the devoted fan that you were, and I basically enjoyed the show – both Classic and NuWho – because you did. And indeed, now that you’re gone, I don’t know that I can bring myself to watch an episode going forward. So I’m not likely to figure out how it’s going to work out now that the Matrix (and the Master) has informed our hapless Doctor that she is the essential source of the Time Lord race, and their ability to regenerate, unable to find home because her origins lie in an entirely different universe or dimension.

Now, I don’t know if that’s simply because it was something that we did together, and it doesn’t seem right to watch it without you, or because it truly doesn’t interest me anymore (I know that the last few years, I would collect all the episodes online, but it felt to me more like an obligation to watch, rather than something to anticipate). What I can say is that I have no desire to attend this convention; and that’s not just because none of the actual Doctors will be there. Without you there, it’s pointless.

I know it’s short notice, and I know there aren’t that many others who read my letters to you, but I suppose I might as well put both our tickets out here, and if anybody wants to go, there they are. You wouldn’t appreciate these things going to waste, after all.

I did just send the organizers an email suggesting that they give these tickets to someone they consider to be deserving, but I don’t know how that’s going to work out. I forget whether this covers the price of the hotel room (given the cost, it looks like it ought to, but you never know), but it’s clear we’re never going to be taking advantage of it going forward.

It’s just another thing I’m letting go of, now that you’re no longer here, and I know you’d be upset about the fact that I’m doing this. Of course, if you were still here, we’d have been in the middle of planning what to bring to the convention and all that, and I’d never have gotten the chance to forget in the first place, so there would have been harmony (or, at leat, the Eye of Harmony) about everything we were doing. There wouldn’t be a river cruise (at least, not right now) interfering with these plans, and Daniel would only need to be taking care of himself for an extended weekend.

But this is how things are these days. I forget about this or that thing that isn’t as important to me anymore, because it was more your thing than mine. I hope you understand. If nothing else, it’s one more thing that I regret that you would be missing out on whether I went or not, but I don’t suppose that you’re likely to realize from your own vantage point. Wish I knew what you were and weren’t aware of about the goings-on down here, so I could know whether to feel bad about leaving these tickets for someone else to use.

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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