Forgive Me

One of the last pictures I ever took of all five kids together.  We stopped in New Mexico, right outside of Albuquerque for gas and snacks before checking into our hotel.  Garrett would be on life support less than 48 hours later.

Agent Scully just found out she has cancer.

As I've watched countless hours of The X Files while binding blankets, I heard her say these words and in my head, I could almost hear Garrett saying them to me.  Forgive me for not making the rest of this journey with you.  It has so, so, so many meanings.  I forgive you, Friend.  I just wish I knew why.

"For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat.  The seconds, pumping in my chest like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other.  That you should know my heart and look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and began again with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions. If not for which, I might never have been so strong now, as I cross to face you and look at you, incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you."