Dear Lucas,
We’ve never met. But I’ve thought of you often during the past year. Just wanted to send you a quick note to wish you a happy birthday.
I’m Richard’s dad. I’m sure you two have met by now. He’s got the plot just up the hill from you. I visit him often. While checking out his neighbors – beside his grandmother who is right behind him up the hill there (she’s my mom) – I couldn’t help but notice you.
Isn’t it wild that you and Richard were almost exactly the same age when you died? Right at 3 months short of being 24 years old.
What did people call you? Lucas? Luc? Maybe you went by your middle name, Graham? If you were Graham did anyone shorten it and just call you Ham? Sorry, I have a weird sense of humor. Having my kid die hasn’t improved it, I’m afraid.
I have no idea what brought you here to Grove Hill Cemetery. Were you sick? Have a wreck? Were you like so many, and decided life was too tough and ended it yourself? Did someone do something horrible to you?
I’ve thought of calling your parents to ask about you. Maybe they could give me some pointers on dealing with this awful loss that we share. Just haven’t screwed up the courage for that yet. But someday.
I can tell by the picture of you etched into your headstone that you had a pleasant smile. Richard had a glorious smile, and he knew how to use it. I really miss that smile.
I can also see you were into golf. They attached one of your golf clubs and your hat to your monument. That’s kinda neat.
Someone left you some new golf balls for your birthday. Don’t know if you need them, you probably never lose one when you play up there.
Richard liked golf too. We still have his golf clubs upstairs.
He’d probably play a few rounds with you. Maybe you’ve already played. Probably so.
Anyhow, happy birthday.
I know your parents are missing you today. I know they’re missing you everyday, but today the volume on that is amplified a lot. I’ll say a prayer for them.
I hope you enjoy the flowers I left for you. It still seems sort of strange giving flowers to a guy. But everything seems strange these days, so what the hell.
Best wishes,
Joe Mudd
P.S. When you see Richard again, tell him to call home. I’ve got questions. Thanks.
2 responses to “Happy Birthday Lucas Holt”
I read your comments about Lucas and I’m thinking of how we notice the things around us like never before. My son died 23 years ago on 6/28 and these past few days have been so hard. It has been 23 years but I still feel his death so strongly, it is something that you never “get over” and it does change your life forever. There is a marker behind our son’s marker that says “Step softly, our dream lies buried here” it’s for a young man of 14. Our Jason was 15, hit by a car, and died two days later. We relive those last minutes and hours and days we sat with him – sometimes for a long time a smell would come to me – it was a kind of medicinal smell and I thought it must have been at the hospital as we sat with him. I don’t know I didn’t notice it then. I haven’t smelled that smell for a long time but this year I smelled it again the day before his accident date and the day we actually was hit. Strange things happen. I am so sad for each parent that has ever lost a child. My heart aches each time I hear or read about a young person passing away. Oh how I wish we could turn back time.
Hi Pat – thanks for sharing your story. Sorry I just noticed it today.
I’ve read stories of people smelling odors from their lost loved ones. They took it as a sign from the “other side” that their family member was trying to comfort them.
I hope you found some comfort from it.
If you ever get that time machine, I’d really like to borrow it.