A Letter by Carole Ann Paige

Hi lover!

Seventeen years ... you're still twenty-one- forever young, but gone. Murdered. And nothing will make your loss to us less of a tragedy.
The first gray hairs sneak onto my head as I face thirty-seven. I look into the eyes of my teenage son and I wonder- have we done enough to change things ... have we done enough ...
Whaddaya say, kid- I brought you flowers. I always brought you flowers, didn't I? Picked from the neighbors' yards on the way to the school bus... It's how we fell in love. And then I gave you daisies in the midst of all those white slabs of death.

Your slab said they gave you a purple heart- for dying. Well, this a purple heart for living. I thought it might mean more to you. The paper is a gift from my daughter- she loves purple. She's 10 and 3/4 years old and beautiful, and someday she'll have a first love too. I hope he has your kindness and humor. And when she's thirty-seven and and still looking for some of those answers, I hope they can touch one another and talk of how they've changed and say thanks for having been a part of my life when everything still lay ahead.

It was important for me to come today ... to touch your name on the wall that makes it all real... I'm still trying to say goodbye. I never managed that very well with us, did I? But you made all of that OK and that made a big difference in my life. The only way I've ever known to pay you back for that gift is to live my life as if it mattered and to work every day in eve way for what is right.

Oh, it was wonderful to be in love the Spring of '65. That part of you will always be alive-love doesn't divide, it multiplies. And the me I bring to the wonderful life and love I share with Dick and our precious children is a me that is a part of you.
I'll always bring you flowers. You gave me love. Goodbye. Hello.