Dear William...

We didn’t see you in Switzerland.

It was weird.

I guess you’re not always showing yourself to us. Maybe you were busy with your friends, or working on some new project. Or maybe you needed us to have time together, just me, Dad, Kai, and Bodhi.

We need to make memories together because this is who our family is now. Maybe you know that. Maybe you wanted to give us the space to just be together. To keep building this life without you, even though you’ll always be part of it.

I like to think you understand that we have to create a life alongside our grief. A life that includes you, but isn’t only about losing you. That’s heartbreaking. But I think you’d want that for us.

And by the way, we made sure to honor you.

We ate lemon tarts.

I walked to Tailless, our favorite little boulangerie and coffee shop, and bought four tiny lemon tarts. I carried them back to the apartment we’d rented for the week, made everyone sit around the table, and we raised them in a toast to you before taking our first bites.

Then, of course, we rated them.

I liked mine, but the crust was too hard. It took away from the creamy lemon filling. You know me. I like my lemon tarts soft, sweet, and full of lemon. The boys all loved theirs.

I think you would have voted with me.

We hiked through the mountains and did the high ropes course in the woods, just like we used to when you were here. We told your little brother, Bodhi, who was visiting Switzerland for the first time, all about the adventures you had there and how much you loved it.

That’s one of my favorite parts of traveling now.

We get to bring you with us by telling your stories. By saying your name. By making sure your little brother knows you, even though he never got to meet you.

But like I said, we didn’t get any signs from you. At least none that we noticed.

I even asked everyone else.

“I haven’t felt William,” I said. “Have you?”

They all said no.

Dad wondered if maybe Switzerland just isn’t one of your places yet, the way Big Sky is. Or the Cape. Or Carlisle.

Maybe.

Or maybe you were tired.

Or maybe we just missed you.

Maybe you were that adorable little cow we passed climbing the mountain.

Maybe you were all the butterflies that kept following us along the bisse trails.

I don’t know.

What I do know is this: we carried you with us.

We spoke your name.

We laughed about you.

We remembered you.

And maybe that’s the point.

Even when you don’t send us a sign, you’re still with us. You’re still woven into our family. Into every trip. Every story. Every lemon tart.

Always on our minds.

Always one of us.

Love,

Mom