A time before this time.

Once upon a time before now we were whole. Our family had purpose and plans. A place to be and things to do. Where are they now I wonder. So many things have happened from then to now. Most if which I don’t understand or really even remember. I saw you when I was sick with cancer and going through treatment. I remember you saying that it was getting hard at home. I remember so very very little. I remember that those whom where supposed to be my friends and family closest to me in the geographic sense seemed to not show up in support of the aftermath of cancer treatment. Though I guess nobody really knew the effects 35 radiation treatment and 10 chemotherapy treatment to the head and neck would do to ones self. Who knew what having Parkinson’s disease at 39 years old would destroy a family and lifelong friendships. Who knew that the world would burn down before all our eyes and run rampant with covid-19 *SARS-COR-2

Today I sit and watch something I haven’t seen since mount saint helens blew up, or since I was kid and watched lake Tahoe national forest burn. These times that we are in are no time to be apart, to let things unsaid be unsaid. Once upon a time before all of this we were whole you and I. We could again in a new way of we tried.

Hope, more than a word. The only thing I have left.

It’s been years and I can still hear your laughter as a child. I remember racing home after 16 hr days at work just to read you “If you give mouse a cookie.” To lay there and stare at the ceiling and hear about your day, your thoughts and dreams. I remember thinking, you are the kindest child I’ve ever met and then thinking how proud I was to have made you, to know you and be your Father. I remember family dinner ” that what the best part of your day?” I remember how much I miss you with every breath I take and how I wish I knew that you were okay, alive, or anything besides the void of nothing that stands between us now. I remember Ferry rides and walks on the beach. Easter egg hunts and birthday parties. I remember the only thing I ever wanted growing up was to have a family, a normal family with a normal life. I think we had that for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to ask for the help I needed. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man I was needed to be. Parkinson’s disease is ruthless, the medicines used to treat it are cruel and outdated yet here we are 11 years since that fateful morning your mother and I woke up only to find I could move and ever since then everything has changed. I hope wherever you are and whatever you’re doing that you know you are loved and cherished missed and needed.

Always benjamin, your Father, your friend and your biggest admirer.

Letters to my son: page 734

I wish I knew what to say. I wish knew where you were or what happened. I had cancer , you came to see me , I didn’t die, I tried so hard to live so that we could have a life together. I know it wasn’t the life we wanted to have or that we had as a family. I’m sorry for that change in our lives, but please understand that all the choices were not mine. Many of those choices were made for me or my reactions to things around me. I never meant for one second to lose you in all of this. Slowly as the chemo-brain fog and radiation treatments fade. In between the moments where Parkinson’s disease doesn’t have me running every which way. I see things clearly and yet I don’t understand why you are not here with me from time to time . Why did you have to disappear and where did you go. What happened between us that would take you so far away. I can’t imagine myself ever doing anything that would make you leave like this. I tried to give our family everything I didn’t have growing up and in many ways I did. We wanted for nothing. Little did I know the thing I didn’t give you was myself. Even though I gave you everything of myself , after 50,60,70 hrs of work a week providing for the family. There was barely waking time to be a family. Though my mind is filled only with joyful memories I can only assume that your are not. For if your childhood wasn’t the gift I thought it was I’m truly sorry. I did everything, gave everything I had and in the end when I got sick , it felt like everyone left . Left me to die , let me have this burden of Parkinson’s alone with no family to find shelter upon. No home to come home to. Then came the cancer and soon to follow a line of humans who would have rather taken everything from me rather than see me well. Tisha and Paula. Shame on you. So here I am yet again writing to you, writing to the world cruel as it is. Where are you? What happened to you? To us. I am here , I alive, not entirely lost to my diagnosis, painting and writing, growing green things and food to eat. Living a lift inspired by living well. I’m not rich anymore, I don’t have anything to call my own. No Physical reminder of my past. All that stolen from me in Arizona. Everything is worked for all my life of gone. Every gift, memory of my life ripped from me. Now I am truly and only a representative of myself. No fancy clothes or nice things, no house of my own nor future to offer. But I am and have always been a kind and gentle soul. Generous and kind to a fault. Naive to the true evils of man and womankind alike. I miss you my son and I miss my step daughter as well though it’s odd to say it that way as I never raised you as a step anything. So here I reach out knowing not what else to do. Here I leave a story written from me to you. In hopes before I’m gone , before PD takes my fully my ability to even recognize your face I hope with every heartbeat and every breath that I’ll have the chance to know you again. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, please know that you are loved and cherished, missed dearly with every fiber of my being. I love you boo and wish I knew what to say or what to do to make you come back to me. Sincerely your Dad, your father. Benjamin M Prewitt.