The base of your tree was empty this morning, and the sun filtered through the colorful leaves. It was a pretty quiet morning, and as I walked by I thought that you probably would have been able to chat with me for a bit without getting too distracted.
I don't know if it's okay that I'm writing this to you. It's one of those blurry lines between client and case worker. But here I am, and I am going to write it anyway.
People miss you. Tamara and me, especially. The people in Murrow ask about you often, as do the Ambassadors and even some of the people who work in the area. We're not really sure what is going to happen, but your family is talking about that. We are glad that we found them for you.
You were always one of those people who I both loved and dreaded seeing. You were full of personality, and sometimes that personality was hard for you to contain. You were both obnoxiously loud, and incredibly sweet (on most days). I think that you didn't know how to handle the kind of things life had so haphazardly thrown at you. Most people wouldn't. And I think that's probably why it was hard for people to look at you or to allow themselves to get to know you. I don't think that anybody meant to hurt you, they just didn't know how to face you, and the parts of themselves that you represented.
I miss hearing you yelling from across the street. And the way that your (almost) innocent eyes looked up at me as you told me to be safe and called me things like "Sweet Betty" and "Brother Sister". You always came up with the most interesting names for people, and I think the "Yellow Birds" actually appreciated it, even though you weren't so sure what to think of them.
I always had a feeling that there was so much more to you than I could access. I'm sorry if it bothered you when I asked my questions. I just wanted to get to that part of you, and I didn't know how. Do you know that on the last day that Tamara and I saw you in the park we had figured out a way to record your story like you always asked us to? But it was too cold, and you were huddled under that blanket and didn't really seem interested in talking. I kind of wish we would have pushed you a little harder. I think you wanted to tell us something...
Every time I saw you I left unsure how to handle our interactions. You both broke my heart and healed it a little bit at a time. I don't think you even knew...I don't think I did either, until your absence let me know.
Even now I don't really know what to say or how to feel. I just wanted to let you know that we miss you. For some reason this seemed like the best way.
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