A Letter To Barb

Dear Missy O'Neil,
It's night time here in Parma. The apartment is quiet, and candle light flickers across your picture beside me. It accentuates the green of your eyes and the fiery Irish red of your hair. It's been too long since we've talked and I have so much I want to tell you.

Did you know that Wendy is pregnant? Well, maybe you knew that already. She's due in May and this time it's a boy. Remember how we celebrated Sarah's impending birth? We both wanted grandchildren so badly, yet you put your expectations aside and reveled in my joy. We planned the baby shower together. You were my Martha Stewart. You always knew exactly the right thing to do. It was a perfect event because you made the table decorations, and planned the menu and the games. We even raided the toy library and filled the party room with dozens of stuffed animals. It was perfect, because of you. This time you won't be here to celebrate with me, and that breaks my heart. At least you were rewarded for your unselfish friendship with the birth of two grandchildren of your own. God how you must miss them and they you.

And so, I think of you now as I prepare for a second grandchild. I think of you when I pass the Jigsaw on State road and when I see fireworks at the Indians games. I remember everything, Barbie, everything.

I don't know what the price of postage in Heaven is right now, but if love is payment enough, then I know that this letter will get to you in record time. I love you Barb.
Goodnight Missy O'Neil.