Dear Luke and Zoey (Your Uncle Luke's Birthday Edition)

Dear Luke and Zoey,

Today is your Uncle Luke's birthday. He would have been 35.

The last birthday I ever got to spend with him was eight years ago, the year before he died.

It was election day.

We surfed dawn patrol at Rincon...I can remember the faint light in the parking lot and the flowered bikini I was wearing, the weak, crumbly waves that just meant we got to spend more time sitting in the water talking. Someday I'll take you surfing at Rincon, because that's one of the places I feel like your uncle's spirit lives on.

After surfing, he went to work, I went to work.

We met that evening for dinner on State Street and drinks at the Press Room with the guys in his band and their girlfriends.

It was a perfect day.

When I think of you and your Uncle Luke, I always think of how he was with Dexter. You know, your boxer? It was his boxer first...your Uncle Luke got him as a tiny puppy when we were living together and was so sweet and loving and cuddly with that dog. It's weird to compare you guys to a puppy, I know, but you know what I mean...those same looks of devotion and love...I know they would have come over his face when he (your uncle) was holding each of you.

I like to think that before you guys came to me you were with your Uncle Luke in Heaven or wherever everybody hangs out before and after Earth...so you already know him. I like to think he's already laid you down on a hardwood floor and spun you around in circles until you were dizzy, he's already taken you on epic mountain bike rides and taught you to surf. He's already gotten you drum sets and guitars and a bass and taught you everything he knows about music. He's already given you tours of all the cool houses he's designed, just like he used to do for me. 

We all miss him so, so much.

I'm so sad you won't get to know him like you do your Uncle Ben.

I'll always do my best to make him come alive for you, so in some way, you'll know.

Love,

Your Mommy