Myles and Mae: One

Dear Myles,

After months of admiring each other’s avatars, ‘liking’ and making flirtatious comments on photos, videos, quotes and song posts, we advanced to countless message chats. Now, here I am writing you a …

Dare I say it?

Yes, I dare!

I’m writing you a love letter.

I know, I know. Technically, it’s a love e-letter. But it feels old-fashioned, like a formal declaration of my affection. There’s no denying my enchantment with you. We shared an intense connection the moment we ‘met’ online. I didn’t need to meet you in person to know we’re kindred spirits. You’ve been a light in my life, like a sunbeam finding its way to me through the forest.

You intrigue me like no one ever has. I crave to learn everything about you. I want to know what makes you tick. May these letters between us unravel and reveal our hopes, dreams, secrets and desires. I’ll let you in on one of my desires. I have an intense longing to see you in the flesh. Until that day comes, let us not underestimate the power of the written word.

In 1913, Nathaniel C. Fowler, Jr. wrote: “It is impossible to overestimate or to exaggerate the importance of the letter and the writing of a letter. The letter plays a second part only to conversation and to personal contact.”

Despite the miles between us, my dear Myles, I find myself devoted to you and to letting our letters become the beating pulse that will join us as one.

Are you ready for the story of Myles and Mae to develop and unfold?

Until next time,

We Chose Each Other

Dear John,

You taught me how to swim (remember – with spoon hands, not fork hands!), you taught me to drive when I was ten years old, you taught me how to do long division that one day in the car when we drove out to the lake to go swimming.  You taught me how to pay bills when I didn’t understand how that worked. You taught me how to fix cars. So many things I know because of you, but even more than that, you taught me how to think, how to solve a problem, long before my college professor swore that if we learned nothing else in his class that we learned how to think.

You taught me that it didn’t matter if we were “real” family. You and I knew we were real family because we chose each other, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

You were kind. And easy to talk to. People have asked me why I didn’t ask you for more details about things. I just let you tell me what you wanted to tell, just like you let me tell you what I wanted to tell. No more, no less.

I’m so glad the girls got to know you and spend time with you. They will have those memories forever, of a grandpa who put them first, had things planned for them, and had the best snacks ever.

I will never pick another tomato without thinking of you. Or see a hand-tied bouquet of flowers and not remember the bouquets you sent home that were tied with your orange ribbon.

When we’re gone, are we more than just the memories held closely by our loved ones? I know there are many memories you had that didn’t include us, but those experiences made you who you were. Just like the memories I have of you make me who I am.

You wouldn’t have known what to say if I would have said these words aloud to you, but I hope you can hear me now. This world was a better place with you in it, and I am a better person because you were here. And I miss you every day.





October 2005 to March 2018


Few ever live up to their namesake. But Miles, you did.

And so much more.

You were cool, suave, but never pretentious. Confidence followed in your paw steps. Maybe that’s the mark of a fine cat—or any cat—but you were far from being any cat. In all that confidence there was never an air of indifference or superiority. You defied the typical definition of what it meant to be feline. It was evident in your grace, your dignity, and your attempts at humor that always kept our attention.

You sought that attention because you knew it was yours, in a house filled with love.

We were always yours. You owned our hearts in a way few people will ever have the fortune to know. You mesmerized two little girls with your playfulness, and it is certain that your life will continue to warm the memories of their childhood for years to come.

Handsome, sleek, debonair; you were all these, and will live on in our memory as the dashing cat who could own any room he entered. It was because of one thing.

At the very center of you was your heart, overflowing with love, pronounced in your unending affections. Its beat was heavy in the rhythm of your purr. It endures as a reminder that, in our hearts, you will live forever.

H.A. Callum