The 2,000 Letters

LETTER #950

April 6th 1985

Today is my first day without you in two and a half years.

When you left yesterday, when you were walking away, I never cried. I don't know why since you of all people know I am a very emotional person. Remember when we first met? And I got hit in the head with a football, (all your fault by the way) and I cried? I know it didn't hurt, I remember, but I cried anyway. Now you're going to war. I thought 'this is going to be the hardest thing I am ever going to go through'. But we both know that's wrong.

Banner slept in our bed with me last night. He dug into the comforter. We can both still smell you. Waking up next to our dog seems like a poor fill in for you :(

I started making your coffee when I woke this morning. I always hated the way it tasted, too much sugar, too much creamer, not enough coffee. Black should be the only way.

Carey asked if you set off safely. I told her I hoped you did.

My mother hasn't come over yet. She probably won't anyway. She never liked you.

I feel like I should be crying, or at least shed a tear. But I can't. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but it worries me. I want to cry for you even if I know you'll say that I'm being silly and that I have nothing to worry about. You have obviously never seen yourself play football. You spend too much time faking out the other team and laughing your ass off to pay attention to what's going on around you. That worries me.

Pay attention, Zach. Please. And maybe then I won't worry about not crying for you.

I love you.

Lewis