A Letter to Adam
Dear Adam,
I know that I met you in Santa Cruz when your dad and I visited there while we were dating. My first real memories of you though were when Charlie, Kelcie and I visited Juneau in the summer of 1998. Do you remember the fishing trip that the 5 of us went on? We all caught at least one King Salmon. When we were leaving the fishing dock, you talked your dad out of paying to have the fished cleaned saying that you would do it. I can picture you now sitting outside trying to clean those damn fish with a knife not much sharper than a butter knife. It took the two of us the rest of the day to clean those guys and we had scales and slime everywhere before we were done. We went rafting on that trip and panned for gold which you thought was lame. And it was. You and Charlie and Kelcie played soccer in the house. And you lost Charlie on a mountain bike ride. Oops! That was supposed to remain a secret. It was a fun trip.
And then there was your dad's and my wedding and all the festivities. You were so young then. Not long after we were married you came to live with us. And it was a bit rough at first. We were renovating a house and living temporarily with Grammy and Granddaddy. Or did you call them Peg and John? Anyway the 5 of us had to share two bedrooms and little Kelcie slept on a blow-up mattress in the hall. My mom still remembers you sprawled on the floor upstairs with your art supplies. You were so talented. I wish that I still had that watercolor of the skateboarder that hung in our den. I can't remember now whether you or your dad has it. Did you keep up with your art?
As I was saying it was a rough start trying to blend our families. Do you remember when Kelcie put tabasco sauce on your retainer? Or the time she short-sheeted your bed. She's still mad that you never said anything about that! Or the time that she and Ellen threw wet cotton balls all over the windows of your garage apartment? You got so mad. They were retaliating for being chased around by you with a wet towel. It was fun to watch you grow up.
When you arrived in Memphis, you didn't have a car until Tim gave you his old car. Am I remembering that right? Seems like he shipped it to you. Anyway in the meantime you were mainly at my mercy to get around town. We spent a lot of time in the car together driving to and from the golf course where you worked for awhile. I felt very fortunate that you already had two responsible, caring parents and that I could just be an adult friend to you. It made our relationship fun and a lot less complicated. Thank you for sharing all that you did with me in those early days.
Without a car you were also stuck at home alone with your dad and me on the weekends when Charlie and Kelcie were away with their dad. We loved it! I remember your dad beaming one night and saying "Adam really is a likable kid". Having you in Memphis with us made us feel like a real family to me.
I guess we weren't the only ones to figure out how likable you were. Once you had wheels and could get to the skate park, you immediately had friends and lots of them. I don't know if you realize what a gift you had for making connections with people. Do you remember teaching my nephew John how to ride his bike? Or playing in the floor with my niece Ella? Or when you sold a set of Cutco knives to my sister Maggie? I believe that she was possibly the only customer that you ever called on. Door to door sales really wasn't your thing! Maggie still has the knives by the way and thinks of you from time to time when she uses them.
I suppose with all the friends and the car in your life, we saw a lot less of you. And there was your cool garage apartment that kept you at bay as well. The memories get a little cloudier for me in the middle years that you lived with us. I remember that I gave you and Tim iPods for Christmas and on Christmas night you went out for awhile. When you got back, you said, "I put some songs on my iPod." And I said, "Oh, how many did you get?" And you said something like a thousand!!! I was floored. We ate out a lot in those days. Kelcie says that you filled your teeth with spinach one night and smiled at her from across the table. My mom thinks that you had some trick that you did with a toothpick at the dinner table. I think that I remember that too but I can't quite retrieve the memory.
I loved how you gave your dad a hard time. The banter between the two of you made me smile inside. Your dad really was a good sport. You regularly gave him a hard time about his eyebrows or shall I say lack of eye brows? Do you remember the time you hopped on Kelcie's tiny dirt bike and drove it right into your dad's van? Still makes me laugh thinking about it. Wonder if your dad can laugh about it now too?
It was always an adventure. Someone asked me recently what I loved most about you. And I really don't know how anyone can answer that question. I just know that you touched my heart from the early days driving around in my car. Guess I loved all of you the most. Simply as that. I wish that I had told you more.
After your dad and I separated and you were still living in the garage, we should have talked more openly. I feel like we kind of had an elephant in the room for awhile. All I know is that I still loved having you out there in the garage and I wish that I had told you that then.
After you moved out and later when you were working at Huey's restaurant, I would drive behind the building and check for your car from time to time. Stalker, I know. If it was there, I'd come in for a burger. Maggie was often with me. We always had fun when you would come out from the kitchen and sit with us for awhile.
The last time that I saw you, we had dinner with your dad and Sophie just before you moved to Maui. It didn't occur to me then that I might not see you again. I am so glad that you loved Maui. Sounds like you were really happy living in nature and being with good friends. I suppose when someone dies you always have some regrets. I wish that I had kept up with you and known you as a young man. I'm playing catch up now through other people's stories. Your children are beautiful and I know that they must be precious since they are a part of you. I will miss you Fadah Boy. We all will. The earth feels like it has a small vacant place within it now without you here.
I love you,
Maddie