Dear Danny,

 

I miss you.  I wish I could speak with you, but I cannot.  One year ago today, you took your life.  You were still alive at this point in the day.  You gave no sign as to what you were going to do.  You were probably asleep, but even after you awoke, nobody suspected a thing.  Your brother went to school, your mom and Eddie went to work, and you stayed home.  Sometimes I wonder how long you waited.  I am sure there’s a medical report somewhere giving the approximate time of death, but I haven’t seen it and don’t feel the need to.  The only thing which matters to me is you’re gone and I miss you.

 

As I said, I wish I could speak with you.  I can’t, so instead I am writing this letter.  There’s nowhere to mail it, so I post it online.  I will make this a tradition.  On the anniversaries of your death and birth, I will write you a letter.

 

I wonder where you would be now and what you would be doing.  I am guessing you would have, by now, gotten into the Job Corps program.  You would be in school.  At this point in the day, you would be sleeping, but later on you would run from class to class, never walking.  Your backpack would be filled with every book you needed that day and possibly a few more.  That’s what I learned you did in high school, and I can’t imagine you would change that habit.

 

You wanted to be a game designer.  I suppose by now you’d have the basics of computer programming filling your head.  You were smart, Danny, and I am certain you’d have an elaborate plan for your first game.  By now, you would have written a small one, something which would amaze your teachers and fellow students.

 

As for me, not much has changed.  I still live with Sam.  I have three felines in the house, including the ever-annoying Myst, although he has mellowed somewhat.  I work for a different company, but the job is essentially the same.  I write and self-publish books, but my dream of being an author is still only a distant hope at best.  I chat with your brother and sister more often than I used to, but still not as much as I would like.

 

That’s about all I have to say.  I’ll write to you again in the fall, on your birthday.  Talk to you then.

 

Love,

 

Dad