Dear Bret,
It’s been a while since I wrote you a letter, and after I made the suggestion for other widows to write letters to their late partners, I decided to do the same.
You’ve been gone now for over seven years. A lot has happened in that time.
The most recent thing to happen is that your youngest daughter just turned 18! That’s right. She was only 10 years old when you left us, and now she’s all grown.
Remember how we always took her to our tattoo appointments when she was little? She’s in the process of making her own appointment now. We have both talked about how you probably would have loved to have been there for this, but you decided otherwise.
It’s okay. I’ll be there with her.
Oh, even though you’ve been away for so long, I still had the very pressing urge to text you yesterday after the news dropped that Ozzy Osbourne had passed away! I guess that’s just always going to be ingrained in my brain–the need to inform you of things that would have made your jaw drop.
I joked that you probably knew Ozzy had passed before any of us did because, well, I don’t know how it works where you are, but maybe you saw him “arrive.”
Oh, another notable celebrity death was Felix Baumgartner. Remember back in 2012 when we watched the live stream of his 4+ minute freefall from the Earth’s stratosphere? I’ll never forget it. Our love for extreme sports and adrenaline was one of the first things we bonded over when we met.
We were still living in Pflugerville at the time of Felix’s jump. Little did we know that once we left Pflugerville, you wouldn’t even live another two full years. That boggles my mind; we had wanted to leave for so long.
As with Ozzy, though, maybe you knew Felix had left us before we did…like I said, I don’t really know how it works.
Anyway, Vellie’s birthday festivities have been pretty fun. I’m sure you would have enjoyed participating too. Or maybe it would have stressed you out as birthdays and holidays often did. I’ll never understand why that was always the case, but it just somehow always was.
I know I’ve kind of ragged on you a little in this letter, so maybe I should say something a little less resentful. Maybe I should talk about how amazing you were when Velle was being born. Every year on her birthday, she looks at the clock and asks me what I would have been doing at that moment. That, of course, makes me think of you and how great you were during that whole thing.
I laugh when I remember us being out to eat at that Cajun place and how all the people sitting around us would stop what they were doing and watch whenever I had a contraction. And then how you stopped to help some guy alongside the road while we were en route to the birthing clinic! It was okay. I knew we had plenty of time.
When I recall and recount these little memories to her, in my head, I see her with us already. As a little kid, not as a soon-to-be newborn who hadn’t quite made it earthside just yet.
I see her with us, and half the time, I have the urge to preface everything with “Remember that?” Of course, she doesn’t because she was still waiting to be born.
It’s funny what the mind does to memories.
That was a good time in our lives, Bret. I look back on much of that time very fondly. Of course, it wasn’t without its hiccups, but that’s just how life is.
I’ve really felt your presence over the last few days, and it’s always nice when that happens. Maybe you have been here for Velle’s birthday week. Maybe you have joined in as much as is possible.
If so, I truly hope you like what you see. I hope you see how lovely and amazing Vellie has turned out. Of course, she was lovely and amazing when you knew her, too. But she’s tall and mature now. Her hair is shorter and darker. Some might even say she looks more like me now than you.
It’s a shame you never got to see her go from that bald little seven-pound baby born at 10:57 pm to this statuesque young lady.
Or maybe you have. As I keep saying, I don’t know how it works where you are.
I don’t know anything about any of that.
All I know is that we miss and love you. We always will.
Love,
~Me~
xo
(Photos (c) Layla Beth Munk – from top, down:
1. Me, 7 months along in front of Mom’s Tattoos, Austin, TX.
2. Vellie, 8 or 9 yrs. Pflugerville, TX.
3. Bret & Baby Vellie, Grover Beach, CA.
4. Me & Vellie, 17, Kennewick, WA.
5. Bret & Vellie, 9 or 10 yrs. Cottage Grove, OR.)
About Layla Beth Munk
Layla Beth Munk is a blogger & author who was thrust into this widowhood journey abruptly and tragically on February 11, 2018. Her husband of 12 years had ended his pain once and for all. She soon made the decision that she would not let his final decision define the rest of her life or their daughter’s life, so with her sense of humor at the helm, she started writing about her newfound station in life. Grief waves still get to her, and probably always will, but with the help of her fellow widows as well as friends and family, she has been able to realize her dream of becoming a published author! Layla is so grateful to Hope For Widows Foundation for providing this level of support to her, and so many others! Layla has two amazing children, one who is grown and one who is almost grown. She lives in eastern Oregon and has a wellness & beauty background. Layla enjoys writing poetry, watching anime, and homeschooling her daughter.
Her blog can be found at laylabethmunk.medium.com and her debut novella, 24 Hours in Vegas, is available on Amazon.