Just to Let You Know…

Dearest Rachel –

To a certain extent, this particular letter might seem a bit perfunctory. After all, what’s the point of commemorating something when I’ve already missed a month? It isn’t as if there’s a streak I need to keep up, nor would you hold it against me – or even be aware; I’m never sure how much you bother to keep up with what’s happening down here, since there is so much to do and so many people to see and meet where you are, I’m sure – if I were to let the twenty-third of the month pass by without further comment.

And yet, it seems as though, when I notice what day it is – and between putting this or that item on my schedule, or reading my chapter of Proverbs for the day, it’s rare that the day escapes my notice – I feel obliged to comment upon it, if for no other reason than just to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about it.

At least it’s not that I’m trying to atone for birthdays or anniversaries that passed without notice. That would be truly sad and embarrassing to admit to, with you gone. Granted, there were such days when I was at a loss for what to get or do for you – you disliked flowers (“they always die so quickly,” you said), jewelry (“when would I wear it?”) or chocolates (“we have so much in the house already”) as gifts, which cover most of the traditional tokens of affection – but, aside from occasionally mixing up the fourteenth and the fifteenth with regard to your birthday early on (yes, I know it’s the fourteenth of May now), I think you would agree that I didn’t generally fall down on remembering. Granted, part of that had to do with the timing of a major historical event right before our anniversary, but still…

This is a little more significant than the typical month, as it marks another quarter since your departure at this point. Twenty-one months, a year and three-quarters have passed since you have now. And it feels like I have less to show for it with every passing month. Sure, the newly-remodeled rooms are in full operation, and Daniel and Logan are enjoying their time together downstairs as I type this, but that was pretty much the case at this time last month, too. I realize the place (and my life in general) doesn’t need to be in a state of constant flux – sometimes, we just need to take a breather and absorb the changes that have already taken place – but it’s to be assumed that I’ve been given this extra time to make something of it. To cross another milestone like this without any significant change seems like that time has been wasted.

“Maybe so, honey, but did you enjoy it?” I hear you say.

You should know better than that. Without you, life is so much emptier than it was supposed to be. Sure, I can amuse myself on my own; I have enough to do so for the rest of my days, if I set my mind to it – and I do, far more often than I probably ought to. You can relate, judging from the comments in so many of your Bible study notebooks. But you also know that while amusements are all well and good, there is more to living than that, and I’m pretty sure it’s not what I was left here to do; at least, not entirely.

But until I figure out what it is I’m supposed to take care of in your absence, all I can do is to deal with the things left behind in my care; Chompers (who of course is now with you, and presumably he’s filled you in on how well or poorly I managed that), the house, Daniel, the folks as needed, even a few small aspects of the church’s operations where I can. None of which brings the same level of fulfillment as my life with (and for) you, but they will have to suffice for now, until something greater comes along, or until I rejoin you where you are.

For now, I just wanted you to know – if it wasn’t well and truly obvious – I haven’t forgotten about you. I miss you, honey, and wish you were still here. I wish you could see what’s happened since – and what you might have thought of the changes (even if you might have disapproved of some of the things I felt I had to do).

But all I can do is to ask for you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m still going to need it.