Motion Picture

Dear Levi,

Sometimes I have no idea what to write you. It’s like there is a huge, empty hole inside my head, all I felt and think is numb. I try my hardest to never look to see you in church, but sometimes, it is inevitable… my soul still knows somehow when you enter the scene. In the brief, painful moments I feel so numb in my head. Maybe I’ve burned out my thinker.

It’s like I’m looking from the outside in on life, watching her live the moments that were mine, live the life I dream of. I watch you move and talk and text and plunge your hands into your pockets.. it’s eaerie, it feels unreal, like slow motion. Like I’ve died and no longer exist in reality. Or maybe that I never existed at all to you. You never look my way, never flinch, never hesitate. I feel so completely invisible, hopelessly trappbed beyond this impenetrable wall of glass. On you go, and her, and life, and my feet are pulling through quicksand of slow motion. Life continued for you so easily, without missing a beat, and it never did for me. I try to make a life, feel anything that feels like “Noelle” again… but she is gone, exisisting somewhere in that reality that was so effortlessly deleted from your desktop of life. She never came back. She sat there at the window table at The West or maybe curled up on the snowy hill overlooking the boy’s dorm, and there she still remains, exiled by your dismissal, a lost soul broken and lost of love.

The life that I’m living now feels so distorted, a cheap counterfeit of Noelle’s life, an impostor hosting her body and mind and trying to convince her it’s better somehow. Most of the time, I leave her and the grief and anguish locked up in the back of my mind and drive on, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes firmly fixed on what you told me to go do and be. I don’t look for you because I know don’t know you, this Noelle, and so it doesn’t hurt so much that you don’t look at me, because you don’t know me either. And I see her so perfect and smiling at your side and I can’t help but be glad for her happiness. Why shouldn’t she be there at his side? 

But somehow, completely factoring you out of my life, all the people moving around me are just bodies and names. My soul feels only the existence of your soul. Even without you in the picture, there is no picture but you. Am I crazy??

Your star,

Rigel

Memory Care Wing

Dear Levi,

I want to tell you about my nursing home ministry. I am so happy to be there. The old people are so incredibly precious! And as much as I love the regulars and those “bee bopping” around in their wheelchairs, my heart has been longing for the visitation I used to do in Valporaiso. I miss knocking on Ms. Carol’s door and letter her fuss about the way her furniture is arranged, the birds in the feeder out the window, the television channel. I miss tiptoeing up to Jack’s bed and putting a soft kiss on his cold, wrinkly forehead, reaching around the oxygen machine that smothered his voice. He cried when he saw me, big, silent tears making silent trails down his ashed grey cheeks. I knew he was dying… the cancer was killing him faster and faster each week. I sang to him until he drifted back into unconsciousness, and then it was my turn to cry. I was there before the day he died, screaming wordless garbles around the trach tube, not a soul in the world knowing he was there in those walls, caring for his pitiful struggles for that lost breath.

It is such a comfort to know that God sees each seemingly insignificant existence. He sees me, too. And I want to be some small measure of love ot these silver headed lives fading into dust beyond the halls of sterile death.

I spoke to Bro. Don after services and he said that they do not do anything for the bedridden wing. I was so sad and asked if I could come early and visit them in their rooms? Maybe read to them a psalm, sing them a hymn, pray with them? And he said, “If you want to head up your own ministry in that wing, by all means, go forward, girl!” He and his wife went with me to talk to the administration, and ten minutes later I walked out with the codes to both the bedridden and memory care wings and over 100 precious old souls at my door. I couldn’t help but tremble in joy at the opportunity. What a responsibility… I am so humbled God would allow me to even be here. It’s overwhelming. I spoke to a couple of the Heartland girls about coming early to visit with me, and urged them to be praying about it.

I can’t believe it, I have my own ministry to people so far unreached. Wow!! I know Satan will try to hinder me, and I’m praying really hard. This means so much to me. Thank you for encouraging me to start back up this ministry, thank you, thank you, Levi.

Your star,

Rigel

Trepha

Dear Levi,

Did I ever tell you about my favorite European race horse, Trepha? She was a three-year-old English Warmblood and valued at a quarter of a million dollars. I was only allowed near the old Cossack training horses at the time, but on the very first day I saw her, I knew I was in love.

She would take your breath away if you saw her. Her coat was a burnished, gleaming black velvet and her head tossed with inquisitive spirit. She was so light on her feet, so graceful and agile. When I saw her coming into the cooling arenas from the training track, she was prancing gingerly but looked so sweet as she tried to please her jockey.

Trepha. I have no idea what it mean. What do you think? I snuck into the thoroughbred stable after my practice and found her homed the second to the last stall on the right, a quiet corner with no neighbors on her left or right. She quietly knickered to greet me and I longed to go inside and run my hand along her beautiful back but I stood outside. She was so sweet! Her endless, deep brown eyes blinked gently at mine and we exchanged hellos, blowing softly into each other’s faces. Her tail swished happily, the only sound in the warm, homey darkness. When I reached through the heavy walnut bars to stroke her nuzzle, she pushed longingly against my hand, soaking up the contact.

She was so incredibly soft! I have never felt anything like it in my whole life. Not just felt, or velvet, or the finest baby hair. I can’t describe it. Thrills shot through my fingertips and I couldn’t stop rubbing her, feeling the soft dips along her nose, playing against the prickles of her whiskers. She swished her tail and stared sweetly into my eyes, just a lonely little filly who had hot racing blood pulsing through the delicate veins just below her blissfully velvet fur.

I gave her a cube of sugar and Trepha licked it right up, then proceeded to cover my palms, wrists, and fingers in affectionate horse kisses. Oh, Trepha. I wonder whatever became of you, the pedigree filly with the sweet eyes and velvety black coat. You would have loved her, Levi. She started my dream to own my own horse someday.

Your star,

Rigel

Along May Ave

Dear Levi,

Do you remember that horribly cold morning at Dunkin Donuts on May Avenue? We shared breakfast and our very first kiss. It is a painful memory, but still so special. When I think about that day, I usually remember what happened before in greater detail. I remember walking over to Starbucks and ordering through the window – it seemed so absurd they didn’t service indoors on such a gloomy winter morning. Do you remember how cold it was? I can still taste the coming snow in the air and feel my body shake as the cold rushed through my blood. I was wearing something light – a sweater, maybe, boots? I only remember the sapphire blue velvet skirt with buttons up the front. I wanted to look beautiful for you. I wanted my eyes to reflect how deeply and ultimately I was in love with you. I hadn’t thought about being out in the weather. I think I love the memory of these moments so much because it’s the first tiem you protected me. You pulled me under your jacket against the warmth of your chest and held my pitiful shivering body against yours. I still dream of that smell, of “home”… the intoxicating, calming bliss of Levi and Curve cologne… I don’t remember it anymore, Fevraal even no longer carries the faintest linger of that aroma so longer for, but I still dream of it at night in my deepest slumber… You help me so gently, so tenderly, your strong amazing arms cradling my head and blocking the cutting Oklahoma wind, the sad grey skies, the whole confusing world. Nothing existed in those moments for me except you. My weakness, your excruciatingly gentle care. It changed my life. You kissed my short black hair and didn’t push me away. If I could have stayed there forever, it would have been a miracle from God. Such bliss can’t exist in this life. Even the memory of it feels so surreal.Were you an angel unawares? Was it all a dream? I drove by that place this morning and dawn on my way to my new and strange job, and the glass catching the rays of the sun caught my breath. For a moment, the present was gone. And I was there with you again. Even now, it is indescribably beautiful.

Your star,

Rigel

Henningsens

Dear Levi,

I heard this song by chance. The last words are what catch my breath. I miss you, Levi.

I miss the simple conversations, I miss the silence in between

I miss the clatter in the kitchen, it always seemed to help me sleep.

But most of all, I miss you…

I miss the way that you could move me, with just the corners of your smile

The gentle way that you would save me with just the “want to” in your eyes.

But most of all, I miss you…

I know I drew a line in the sand that I can’t cross back over

And I know, baby you’ll be fine, but if you don’t mind, I’ll never recover…

I miss the way you made me better and I miss the touch that made me melt

I miss me wrapped up in you, baby, instead of always wrapped up in myself.

But most of all, I miss you…

I know I drew a line in the sand that I can’t cross back over

And I know, baby you’ll be fine, but if you don’t mind, I’ll never recover…

I miss the simple conversation, I miss the silence in between

I miss that little bit of hope… you might be coming back for me…

But most of all… most of all, I still miss you…

Your star,

Rigel

Autumn

Dear Levi,

It’s been more than a month since I wrote here. I've been writing you on paper, keeping the precious letters tucked safely in a binder in my desk under lock and key. So much has happened... I moved into the new apartments, I started the new job, and I began my ministries. I moved on from summer… from the Landes, too busy now with the Heartland hundreds and coming baby… from the Crossbearers, overflowing with OU students from snobby families too preoccupied to notice my presence… from the hoping. 

I never thought it would go. But it did. Somewhere in the exhaustion, in the sleepless nights on the floor of the apartment, in the long drive through traffic to work, in the buzz of mindless phone calls, in the vastness of the church, in the quiet of the nursing home, in the chill of the autumn night air… it did go. Where, I don’t know. Maybe to that quiet, still place where my Levi Box rests in waiting. Waiting for God, waiting for fate. And when I sat in my car and felt the tears trickle down, they were different tears. Tears of grit, of resignation, of survival. Tears without hope, without dreams, without a future. Just tears.

I know God could still change your heart. And I pray for that… that someday you’ll trip, and fall back in love with Noelle. But the odds have won the tug-of-war in my mind. I always wondered when the aching seizures would subside. Now I know. It’s when the hope goes away.

There’s just living now. Remembering, praying, but no hoping.

It’s autumn, and the one-year-days are about to come by. I scrolled through my phone web history the other day, and just two pages back was the research for a wedding at Moses Lake, Washington. It shocked me. Just two pages of Iphone history, and we were ridiculously in love. Now, it’s winter again and I’ve almost been longer without him than I ever was with him. It makes my mouth dry… it makes my blood cold, and my heart slow. 

Just autumn.

Your star,

Rigel

What's In a Name

Dear Levi,
In the training zone today, I listened in on calls. They called it "shadowing." I heard a call to the sweetest, sweetest little old lady. The way I picture GiGi. The way I want to be. And when we initially asked for her husband, the primary mortgagor, she had to tell us, "Oh, he just passed away..." It was so, so sad to hear that. What do you say? She was softly crying, but I could hear a smile in her voice over the condolensces as she said, "It's okay, sweetheart. I just love hearing his name."
And that... wow. That is how I still feel about you. Always have. Levi. No... Levi Pierce Fowler. I remember when you taught me to spell it right - Pi, not Pei. Like the mathematical equation, so fitting for someone so genius as you. Fowler, like in the Bible twice. Levi, like the best and brightest of the Israelite tribes. Levi, another name for Matthew, after your dad. I always dreamed to someday hear "Dr. Fowler, L.P." Like the sign I wanted to make for you at the airport.
I loved your name... still do. It makes me so proud, the way I know it makes your dad proud, your grandma, and your little brother and sister. I dreamed to one day share your name, did you know? Mrs. Levi Pierce Fowler. It would be such an incredible honor... it makes my stomach tremble just typing it out onto my pitiful little laptop. I would never deserve that. But I love hearing it.
If you never come back, I will always be just like her.
Levi Pierce Fowler, the love of your life, right?
No, he chose to move on.
Oh, I'm so sorry...
It's alright, sweetheart. I just love to hear his name.
Levi.