Letter to Jeff, Day 378


Dear Jeff,

I don’t want to dump my problems on you, but I have no one else to talk to, at least not about what’s really bothering me. I am so disheartened that I need someone to tell me it will all work out. You told me things would come together for me, but so far they haven’t.

I try to hold on to positive things, such as being glad you don’t have to deal with life’s problems, yet I can’t help thinking that if you were here, these problems wouldn’t matter — we’d be together. But that is foolish thinking. You’re not here.

One of my brothers has a golf analogy about hitting a ball into a sand trap, and how you need to figure out where to go from there rather than obsessing on how you got there. I can see that at the time of making the shot you need to concentrate on getting out of the trap, but still, at some point you need to figure out how you got in that position so it doesn’t happen again. But thinking how I got in this state of disheartenment gains me nothing. It was no mistake, not something I could fix, not something that will ever happen again so I don’t need to figure out how to prevent it since you will never die again. If I knew you were okay, I could handle this. (This meaning being alone.)

I am not totally selfish. I want you to be happy. After all those miserable years, you deserve that. I find I’m most content when I don’t think of you being dead, when somewhere in the back of my mind I have the feeling you’re back home doing well.

I hate knowing you’re gone. I hate feeling so disconnected from you. How am I going to get through the coming years, Jeff? I dread living in an apartment, dread growing feeble alone. I don’t want to live with anyone else — just you. But that’s not going to happen. I also dread taking all our stuff out of storage and using it. It will be so very painful, having the constant reminder that you no longer need the household items we bought together.

I’m tired of being sad. Tired of having things to be sad about. But I guess I better get used to it. Even if by chance things do work out for me, you’ll still be gone.

Ah, well. Apparently I’m feeling sorry for myself today. I’m going to go for a walk. Change my circumstances for a bit to see if I can change my attitude.

I miss you dreadfully. You were my one. Take care of yourself and I’ll take care of me.

Adios, compadre.


Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels UnfinishedMadame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light BringerMore Deaths Than OneA Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am IBertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

4 Responses to “Letter to Jeff, Day 378”

  1. Suzanne Says:

    Pat, thanks for sharing these posts. I found your blog as I am hurting so bad after losing my soulmate and best friend to a long and painful battle with Lymphoma 5 days ago. It’s hitting me particularly hard now, after returning home after staying with him for the final weeks of his life. We didn’t live together and helping his daughter clear out his rental house was so strange as it felt that he was just being erased from existence. I think I need to start journaling or something, not sure what to do with myself. I really just want to curl up into a little ball and disappear. I know it will get better but it’s going to take time.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      I am so very sorry. It’s a terrible thing to lose someone so dear, and yes, it will take time — a lot of time, so be patient with yourself. Journaling might help you, and it will keep him from being erased. Wishing you moments of peace to help carry you through.

  2. Noelle Says:

    I love these letters to Jeff because they express so well what I am feeling ; missing Kouro horribly, dreading to be getting older without him, not being able to share with him. Thank you for expressing your feelings about mourning, the great and possibly endless yearning. It makes me feel a little less alone.

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