CORRESPONDENCE by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

Grandma Tracy writes a letter.

March 18, 2029

My Dearest Friend,

I can not tell you how much your prayers and good wishes have meant to me in this sad time. I hold your letters to my heart as a tremendous comfort.

It is comfort that I sorely need these hard days. I must tell you my dear grandson is not much improved since my last letter and it is a weight on the hearts of all who live here. I know you meant it as a kindness when you suggested that he be moved to an institute, but I am afraid neither his father or brothers would allow it. For myself, I don’t know what would be better. The only consideration, in my mind, is his well-being. But how could we be assured of that if he were sent away? At least here, we know he is cared for and loved.

I know you want to know more about the accident, but honestly, there is not much more to tell. He fell while on an outing with his brothers and hit his head. As you can imagine, Scott has been particularly distraught, though he tries to hide it. Everytime he looks at his brother, you can see the pain in his eyes. He has protected and guarded all of the boys since they were children, and it makes no difference to him that no one blames him, or that he was in no position to stop the fall, he blames himself. It breaks my heart to see him torn so.

Jeff has once again risen to the challenge of dealing with this whole situation. Just like before, he has maintained a positive outlook, although I can see how much it costs him. As you know, he didn’t handle Lucille’s death all that well, and I suspect he would be crushed should Gordon die, but in this situation, with a grave injury, he is the light that keeps the family moving on.

Yes, Alan is devastated. It is very sad to see him drawing away from his brother. They have always been such great friends. But I fear seeing Gordon so… diminished… is like a knife in that young man’s heart. He refuses to see his brother, and has become increasingly sullen and argumentative. My heart tells me that it is the pain, but it is difficult to stand by as he pushes everyone, including Tin-Tin, away.

Virgil and John are being good little soldiers, trying not to add any additional burdens to the family. John stays with Gordon whenever he can, just to make sure that he is all right. He has forgone his work on his latest book to just sit and talk with him. Whenever they are in the lounge, Virgil shows up and plays the piano. I think I’ve mentioned that Gordon has always had an appreciation for Debussy, and the soft jazz that Virgil is so adept at.

As for Gordon himself, he hardly seems aware of where he is at times. There are occasional moments of lucidity, when the light seems to come to his eyes, but it lasts for so short a time that I have come to distrust it. For the most part, he is able to feed himself, and keep himself clean. I’d say his mentality is about that of a four-year-old, but without the spark, the curiosity.

Jeff continues to search for doctors who can do something, anything for him, but so far everyone of them has been totally useless. They come, they cluck, they shake their heads, and the go away after charging my son outrageous fees. Most say he’ll never improve, some say it’s a crapshoot. I’d like to strangle them all, but Jeff is ever hopeful. Another one of these so-called specialists will be here tomorrow. I intend to stay in my room until he is gone.

Oh, Tina, how I long to leave this sad place and visit you, if only for a few days. I know that sounds traitorous, but the atmosphere is so heavy, and I know I would handle it better with a small break. Perhaps I can fly up in a few weeks. In the meantime, please, please, please, keep my dear boy in your prayers.

Love,

Ruth

March 21, 2029

Dearest Tina,

My dear heart, I have been trying to reach you on the phone all day, to no avail, so I am sitting down to write to you. Only a few days ago, I sent you a letter of such misery that I can hardly stand to think of it. I have such wonderful news to tell you!

My dear Gordon has improved. No, that is not even the right word. He has HEALED! It seems like such a miracle, that I have been thanking the Lord almost continually for hours.

As I mentioned in my last letter, Jeff brought another doctor to look at my sweet baby, and this one was different. He was a neuropharmacologist (forgive me if I’ve misspelled the word, I never even knew there was such a thing!) This doctor, Dr. Amadi, ran some tests and said that there was nothing wrong with Gordon but that the drugs the other doctors had prescribed were causing a change in his brain chemistry, and all we had to do was stop giving them to him.

You’ll remember when he was first injured, he suffered from seizures, and the medications were to control them. Jeff was very hesitant to stop the drugs at first, but Dr. Amadi assured him that the injury itself was responsible for the seizures, and the tests all showed the injury was fully healed. He said it wasn’t like the bad old days when a head injury meant seizures for life.

Well, let me tell you, within hours of stopping those damned drugs, the real Gordon started to peep through the fog. Remember I said there had been moments of lucidity? In retrospect, it became obvious those moments were coming just before it was time for him to take the medications. It’s one of those things that has the whole family shaking their heads. Why didn’t we make the connection? It doesn’t really matter, but I think the frustration will linger a long time.

Both Scott and Jeff are strutting around as if the weight of the world has been lifted from their shoulders. Scott is very vigilant, and I daresay Gordon will be ‘mother-henned’ for some time. Jeff shows his relief by getting back to work, complaining about how far behind he is. But for all his complaining, a smile never seems to leave his face.

Virgil and John have simply relaxed. They both pretend to ignore their brother, but I notice Virgil is still playing Debussy, and John always seems to have business in whichever room Gordon happens to be in.

My poor Alan is suffering from tremendous guilt over his previous behavior. He tried to avoid Gordon, but of course, Gordon will have none of that! Dear thing that he is, he seems to instinctively know what will make things right between them. Unfortunately for Alan, it seems bugging him to death is Gordon’s method of choice.

Nobody has said anything directly to him, but as you know, Gordon is a very perceptive young man, and he knows he has been a source of grief for the family. He is doing his best to cope with it all.

I myself have decided not to wait another minute. I am going to head to the kitchen to make some triple chocolate brownies, just in case anyone should want one.

Love as always,

Ruth

PS I still would love to come for a visit, but perhaps we could put it off for a while. Maybe after Memorial Day?

April 8, 2029

Dear Aunt Tina,

I got your card and care package today in the mail, and I am writing to thank you. As soon as everyone realized it was from you, I was hounded. I finally had to hide in my room with a locked door to open it in peace.

The first thing I saw when I opened it were those fantastic jars of strawberry jam. You know it’s my favorite! If you see red stains on this letter, you’ll know it’s because I’ve been scarfing it all afternoon. Grandma still makes strawberry jam, but the berries she gets from New Zealand aren’t the same. They’re still good, don’t get me wrong, but there is just something about the berries in Kansas that says ‘home’ to me. Now, before you tell Grandma I’ve been hogging the jam, I’ll tell you I’ve only kept one jar just for myself, and all the rest is in the kitchen pantry, along with the apple butter, and most of the pickles you sent. Grandma turned green with envy when she saw the bread and butter pickles. She has always said yours are better than hers, and I can’t say I really disagree. Don’t tell her I said so, though!

Unfortunately there was an accident with the cookies, and when I opened them, a bunch of them were broken. Knowing how much pride you take in them, I ate all the broken ones, so no one would know they weren’t all perfect. Sadly, once I ate all of the broken ones, I realized there weren’t enough left to share, so I ate all of them too. They were really great sandwiched with the strawberry jam.

I really loved that glass paperweight you sent. When I showed it to Dad, he tried to swipe it. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on it, or it might just ‘swim’ to Dad’s desk! You’re actually wrong about it being too colorful to be designed after a real fish. I’ve seen just this kind of fish on the reefs off of Australia. It’s called a lineatus wrasse, and if you look up a picture of one, you’ll see the artist was really quite accurate. In fact, as I look at it right now, it looks so real, I half expect it to stop holding down my papers, and start flopping around looking for some water.

When I told Grandma about you saying you didn’t think it was realistic, she told me to send you a copy of a vid that Alan and I filmed when we were scuba diving last year. That’s what the DVD is. Watch it, and you’ll not only see the lineatus wrasse is real, but also that it isn’t even the most spectacular fish out there. By the way, the music you hear with the vid is Virgil. The original soundtrack is pretty much just Alan and I going ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah.’

I want to thank you for the card, too. Grandma told me how you were praying for me when I was sick, and I want you to know I really appreciate it. Your support means a lot to me, and to Grandma too. I’m doing fine now. All of the muscle stiffness is gone, and that tingling in my hands that Grandma says she told you about is gone, too.

Grandma says she is going to come to your house for a visit, and she has told Dad she’d like me to fly her up so you can see for yourself that I am okay. Dad has said he’ll think about it, so I might be seeing you pretty soon.

Thanks again for everything!

Love,

Gordon