Love always, Charlie
December 26, 1991
Dear friend, I am sitting in my bedroom now after the two-hour ride back to my house.
My sister and brother were nice to each other, so I didn’t have to drive.
Usually, on the way home, we drive to visit my Aunt Helen’s grave.
It’s kind of a tradition, and my brother and my dad never want to go that much, but they know not to say anything because of Mom and me.
My sister is kind of neutral, but she is sensitive about certain things.
Every time we go to see my Aunt Helen’s grave, my mom and I like to talk about something really great about her.
Most years it is about how she let me stay up and watch Saturday Night Live.
And my mom smiles because she knows if she was a kid, she would have wanted to stay up and watch, too.
We both put down flowers and sometimes a card; we just want her to know that we miss her, and we think of her, and she was special.
She didn’t get that enough when she was alive, my mom always says.
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