November 29, 1981 to May 3, 2008
I was putting a rose on Nicholas’ grave today and a beautiful rainbow appeared. When it went away, I asked, “Where did you go?” and part of it reappeared as if to say here I am and then slowly faded into the clouds.
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XasshMobile
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Female 16 years old Mission Viejo, CALIFORNIA United States Last Login: 2/7/2008 |
Nick sure loved his Saab and loved being an active participant in the So Cal Saab Club Forum. And it’s clear that he too was loved by the club members. The powerful words spoken at Nick’s memorial service by one of his Saab buddies will remain with me forever. Thank you!
Nick’s online gaming friends Jennifer, Jerry, Josh, and Richard drove up from San Diego to the Memorial Service and reception afterward where I got a chance to get to know them a bit and hear their memories of how Nick was and remains a part of their life. Stories of how he was so well liked. Stories of how he was there when someone needed something - anything. And stories of how he amazed them by the amount of food he ate at the yearly barbeques. And the story of his culinary culture shock that brought him to tears when he experienced authentic spicy food. Okay, so he lead a sheltered life growing up in New England. I never took him aside to tell him about bell peppers, sweet peppers, and hot peppers.
I was humbled when I read, “One thing I can say that was sad when his dad approached us. He stood like nick and had the same smile.”
- Thank you 
The following letter began to unfold as a series of questions that I scribbled in my Moleskine notebook during the long flight from Boston to LA only a few hours after Joan (Nick’s mother) called to tell me of Nick’s fatal motorcycle accident. Later I discussed those questions and my experiences I had on the flight with Nick’s brother and friends Eli, Everett, Katrina, Juan, and Steven(?.) It was healing to spend time with them and hear how much they loved him. We shared silence, stories, tears, prayers and smiles as we took some time to comfort and be comforted. We planted miniature roses in the sandy soil on the very spot where Nick left his body and this world so unexpectedly.
Why do I cry?…
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Dear Nick,
I’m not sure if you were listening, so here it is again. On the flight from Boston I asked in my thoughts.
* Where were you
Before you were born?
Where are you now?
Were you just passing through this life?
Are we all just passing through?
* Why do I cry?
Do I cry for me?
Or, do I cry for you?
* Are you waiting for me to say goodbye?
If you are waiting my, flight will land soon.
If you’ve left already I understand. I’m sure you’ll find your way.
In my silence, as these questions and thoughts blended into feelings and the drone of the jet engines I wondered:
Was that bright light on my closed eyes a light from you?
And did I truly sense your expansive and comforting glow letting me know that everything is alright?
And was that solid comfort that I felt in my heart the same solid comfort of the famous Nick bear hug?
* And, if it’s true, do I cry for you?
No I cry for me.
And shed salty tears on the soft earth you made sacred when you left.
* And today I pray:
See you later? You tell me.
Love always,
Dad
P.S. I’m going to miss you big time! I’m so honored and blessed to have been your Dad.
