Shirley asked me to write a note to Christopher. I did, and slid it into the sock that I gave Shirley. She put them atop his diminutive white casket at the funeral.
Dear Christopher,
I tried to make you a pair of socks but they came out funky. Here’s one of them. I threw out the other.
You wouldn’t believe how sad I am not to have met you. Like everyone else, I had plans for you. For one thing, I was going to teach you stuff your parents wouldn’t approve of. Like behind Scott’s back I would have showed you an Irish dance step or two. And when Shirley wasn’t looking, I’d introduce you to hippie girls in Berkeley.
I’m heartbroken most of all for your parents. Their little Christopher Henry (that’s you) will always be with them in spirit and memory. By the way, do you know much about your parents? They’re just the best people. They’re both smart, funny, generous to a fault, and the most loyal friends a person could have. Shirley is prettier than Scott, but Scott is better at riding dirt bikes.
Well, I’d better stop yammering. Mostly I wanted to tell you that you are in the hearts of more people than you can imagine. We’ll never forget you.
I’ll do my best to be a good friend to your parents and to help them out when I can. Meanwhile, if you happen to see Dad or Grannie, would you please send them my love?
Yours forever,
Auntie Ginna