Early this morning, your great-uncle was on the radio. he is your dad’s uncle by marriage and I always loved the dinners we had when they were in town from DC and we lived in San Francisco. I always say, “Hi Ron!” when he makes an appearance and I tell Vesta that he is her dad”s uncle and she says “That guy talking on the radio knows me?!”
He is the political editor of National Public Radio and today was giving somewhat of a summary of this week’s crazy, terrifying, devastating and confusing events. And he said your name, thanks to the hurricane that hit Texas last week. Simultaneously, I thought “I wonder if Ron thought of our Harvey in all of the news reading, sorting, editing that he does everyday” and I felt such a surge of love in my heart to hear a family member say your name, on national news no less and despite that it wasn’t even about you. But we have so little of you on this Earth so I grasp for straws sometimes and love when I reach one, now and then, like this morning.
He is distant to me now but I have seen how much he loves Vesta when he interacts with her and I know how much he would love you if you were here to play with, too. “Harvey”, he said, leaving off the “Hurricane” part and amidst the destruction and chaos and loss of that storm, my small corner of the world got to feel a little deeper, a little more connected, a little more held.
There are small miracles everywhere, son. And you are one. And the way your family, near and far, together and apart, new and old, love you is another.
I love you, buddy.