Good morning ma’dear.

Here I am, writing.

I tell you, you give my inspiration. So I write. The words don’t come out but my excitement does. Have I told you about this song I heard?

It was an amazing song. Very well put together. You’d appreciate it, I know it.

“Songs like happiness.” you’d say. That’s what you would say if you heard this song, “sounds like happiness.” Because that right there is you. That right there is who you are.

That is indeed who you are and I loved you for it. Your were so sensitive! Anything and everything had a feeling, “this ice cream tastes like excitement,” “this smells like despair, air freshener?”

You described everything with a feeling. That’s why Tyler loved you so. “What’s is look like sissy?” Well, I couldn’t tell him, could I? He couldn’t see colors. He couldn’t see anything. Then you came along. You described things with the feeling of Christmas morning, and warm summer nights, and even our wet dog, Lucy I wish he could have seen the joy on his face when he imagined these things.

He still asks me to describe thing to him, you know. He still does. I can’t do it as well as you. No one can.

Do you miss, Tyler? I know he misses you. He loved you so much. He almost loved you as much as I did.

We loved you until the day you got shot.