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May 20, 2001
Lance,

It’s been one year today. It feels like forever. Jim and Diane took Connor for the day and the boys and I spent the day together. We went to the church to see the marble meant to be you. When you first left me it was almost a comfort, something to mark your presence in this world and my life. Something to scream at and kick when I realized the unfairness of it all. Now, I don’t care for it much. With a name, date, and epitaph, it’s an insult to who you were. You were so much more.

Everybody shared their favorite Lance memories, I didn’t want too, but afterward it seemed the perfect way to bring you to memory. In one moment I thought I could reach out and touch you. It’s like my dream when I stand on the glass ocean. Every memory is frozen clear and high as a breaking wave. I can see you on the shore, frozen in glass. Every time I reach for you, I crest glass waves that shatter. The shards of memory run over me, sweet yet bitter knowing you are waiting. I never get far before I am drowning. The next time I come to stand on the glass ocean, frozen in time, the waves are darker, the memories are less clear, you are further away, and I fall faster. I know that eventually I will arrive and the ocean will be deep and blue, drowning from the start with no shore in sight. Lance, it scares me, I need the glass ocean.

I don’t want to lose the few years of precious memories that I have with you. I love you still too much to ever wish that. When the memories dull, who will tell Connor about his father? I hope not the unofficial biographies you find everywhere, they didn’t know the real James Lance Bass. I did.

Always,
Rene


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