A River Runs Thru It

Dear Pam, as I looked at a photo from just two or three years ago of you sitting by yourself along a beautiful river in the mountains of Northern California I thought how maybe that was a preview of heaven. We often said when we would get away into the remote areas of Oregon and California that if heaven looked like this we would feel right at home. So…I guess in a way you are home now and I can only imagine what it must be like. This also makes me think of the popular contemporary Christian song “I can only Imagine”. Of course anytime I hear that song it usually sends me to tears because I truly can only imagine, while you don’t have to imagine anymore because you’re there. When at look at this photo I also find it comforting that you posed so beautifully with that big bright smile and I can almost hear you saying…it’s going to be all right sweetheart, it’s going to be all right. I must tell you as I sit here alone in a local restaurant writing you this that it still doesn’t make it any easier you not being here. As I see what seems like an endless stream of beautiful women coming and going and enjoying the day I get a little down thinking how I too had a beautiful woman in my life and I miss her so very, very much. I had someone tell me once that having lost you at a fairly young age means the only memories I will ever have are of a young beautiful woman that I never saw grow old, gray and breaking down from the advance in years. In some respects this is certainly true, but I sure would have liked the opportunity to have grown old with you. Now I feel like I could be headed towards an ending like in the movie “A River Runs Thru It” where the father is standing on the banks of a beautiful river in Montana fishing alone. I remember watching this film with you and we were both deeply moved. At the close Norman says…Like many fly fishermen in Western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being of my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters. For me Pam, I’m haunted by my sweet memories of being together since high school and realize life can never be that great again. I miss you so much and I will love you forever and always, Jack
To hear more of my Love Letters to Pam be sure and download my podcast from your favorite podcast provider. Look for “The Jack Church Show”.