Dear Andrew

Dear Andrew,
I still think about you, all the time. I remember you telling me that you didn't just want to become that guy in the picture frame, and you won't be, we're making sure of it. I think about you whenever I play the guitar, because I know you did too, and that battered old Beatles songbook which I love to death has your name written inside.
I think of almost every time I go to work at the pool, where people still remember you working as a teen and in your early twenties. I remember once that Mike's mom told me that you were the one who taught Mike how to dive, did you know that he's a provincially ranked diver now?

I think of you the most when I see my cousins, though. I was the oldest of your 5 nieces and nephews when you died, and I was only nine. It makes me really sad that I'm the only one who still has clear, distinct memories of you before you got sick. I mean, Spencer was only 2 at the time, he barely knew you. Can you believe the little guy is 10 years old now? You never got to see me turn 10, though I remember you telling me it was going to be so cool to be a "double-digit".

I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if you were still around. I know that you and Andrea would have had kids as soon as you could, you would have made fantastic parents together. And I would have more cousins! I can't even imagine it. It still makes me so angry that you and Andrea were in love for years, and you waited so long to get married, then you got diagnosed only 3 months in to your marriage.

Everyone still talks about you, don't worry. The more I hear about you, the more I wish I'd gotten to know you better. It just makes me sad that you never got to see who I'd grow up to be. You were 10 years younger than mom, so you always seemed like a really cool older brother instead of an uncle. The other kids were so young when you were sick, especially at the end, so I don't think they really understood. I'm so glad that I spent so many of those last weeks in your bedroom just hanging out with you and Andrea. I realize now how hard that must have been for you.

Seriously Andrew, almost everything makes me think of you. Whenever someone mentions Newfoundland, because you were born there, the only Newfie in the family. That bike that I take everywhere in the summer, it was yours. That god-awful statue you bought Grandma as a joke, you know she still has it? The cottage, my god the cottage, I swear thats where everyone feels you the most, because of how much you loved fishing and cutting wood, and generally loved that place. Even my crooked pinkie fingers, because Andrea once told me they looked just like yours.

I know you're keeping up with all of us, somewhere, it just kills me you aren't able to participate anymore. I grew up the year you died. I wish that you hadn't gotten cancer, and that you could have lived more than 31 short years.
We miss you


Andrew Schell, 1969-2001