Annalisa's Droplets

Dear Tim,

I’ve been inspired by my good friend Suzy to write you a letter, but I’ll never mail it and I’ll never truly know if you get it but that’s okay, at least I tried.  I can’t believe it will be eight years this January 12 since we lost you.  Some days it seems like just yesterday.  We never talked about the possibility of you losing this battle.  I never dreamed I’d be growing older without you there in Minnesota tottering around in your studio sending me postcards, mix tapes and calling me to chat about what crazy thing Dad’s been up to.

Ironic that Cancer, the sign you wore born under, was also the one that took you away from us.

Do you realize how much I miss you?  There’s not a day I don’t think of you, and smile.  There’s so much that has happened since you’ve been gone and I thought I would share some of what’s been going on in my life, your little sister.

I just turned 36, I’ve now lived longer, than you, though not by much. It’s funny but to me you always seemed both so young while at the same time like such an old soul. Like you’d played this game before.

Did you know your mother and Andy adopted a young girl from Kazakhstan shortly after your death?  At first I found the idea appalling, a way to close the book on the story of your life, to move on.  Now I see it as a very positive thing that they did, they have found new love and they are all benefiting from it.  I’ve tried to connect with your adopted sister but she’s not interested in me, at least not right now, at age 15. Perhaps someday we will, perhaps not.

I want you to know our dad is doing fine now, I was so worried about him for such a long time. He spiraled into depression and seemed to be lost in his sorrow. I understood, as I was also grieving your loss and we were both lost.  I can say that now, eight years later, we’ve both changed but we’re happier now. We can share stories and memories and keep you alive in our hearts.

Your death taught me a lot. It has certainly made me appreciate life so much more and to focus on the family and friends I have who are dear to me. I am not afraid to share my feelings and let them know how much they mean to me. I am trying to live in the moment more and be more happy, laugh more and spend more time doing the things in life that make me happy.

I wish you could see Stefan and what an incredible vintage racecar driver he’s become. You’d be impressed, I’m so proud of his accomplishments.  Stefan has been taking good care of your BMW /5 and Lambretta scooter, they both need a little TLC and he promises to fix them up again soon so that we can go for some rides.

Did you know there is this social networking site called Facebook? It’s amazing, in both a good and bad sense. You won’t believe this but it’s allowed me to find and stay somewhat connected with not only my friends and family but some of your friends. I think you’d have definitely had an account before me and would have way more many friends but it’s been a way for me to learn more about you and share your memories from time to time. Your studio, Lunalux, continues to do well. I know this because I’m “friends” with Jenni on Facebook and she created a Lunalux Facebook fan page. How cool is that?

Here’s something else you may not know, Sacha now has three beautiful sons and he and Rachel seem to be doing quite well in England. I’ve even connected with your good pals John and Candace from Walt Mink. I’ve shared old photos and some of your art with these wonderful, old pals of yours through this site. It’s fun to read their comments and know that there are other people out there who remember you, because the memories are all I have now.

Remember that New Year’s eve trip to North Carolina we made, Stefan, Saabina and I following you, Beth and Simon to your mother and Andy’s rustic old cabin? That snowy evening where you made us stop at the Waffle House that late night to fill up on waffles, bacon and other yummies because once we got to the cabin we’d be eating your Mom’s macrobiotic diet?

That was so much fun and you seemed so happy and alive at that time. Well, much has happened.  Simon and Saabina have both passed on and that cabin has been added onto.  Your mother had an architect build a more contemporary style house completely around it, the cabin is more of a museum inside the house. I kind of like it. It’s given it a new life which I think it needed. Oh, and they put in this amazing pizza oven. You would love it!

Did you know, I got a puppy last year? Another miniature schnauzer, like Saabina? Only this one is the most handsome boy. We named him Stefanwolf, Wolfie for short. I’ll tell you a secret, I made him a facebook page, yes there is an entire animal underworld on facebook. Well, Wolfie is way more popular than I’ll ever be.  He brings joy, I hope, and a lot of silliness to the lives of others. It’s really weird and silly, I know, but it’s harmless fun and there should be more of that in this world.

I think you should also know that I’ve become quite a good cook. We were both raised to eat all kinds of foods and as adults shared an interest in cooking and food in general. Well, it’s really become a passion of mine.  Why just this weekend I spent most of my time cooking my homemade chicken soup, an amazing chili and a roast of venison that I think you would have enjoyed. Dad is always complementing me on my cooking which makes me think you would be proud of me too.

You  know what I really miss? The sound of your voice, the countless ways you entertained me with your quirky behavior, your amazing sense of humor and your incredible artistic eye.  I think of you whenever I hear Mazzy Star, Tom Waits, A Prairie Home Companion, see a BMW /5, Lambretta or Vespa and did you know I am typing this on my laptop while sitting at your old rolltop desk? The drawers and cubbies of this fantastic desk are filled with your old pens and inks, cards, stationary, labels, stickers and some of your old pipes and lighters. I cherish all this stuff of yours.

Anyway, I just want you to  know, eight years later I still miss you incredibly but I am doing fine, everybody’s doing fine, mostly.

Love Always,

Annie