I wanted to write a letter to share my thoughts, feelings, and memories because I wasn’t able to do so in person. Admittedly, this feels tender to write, but I hope it’s a welcome sentiment.
I’ve always been curious about what a life in your home would have been like for me. I admired the adventures you took Emily and Thomas on—hiking, exploring the outdoors—but also the way you encouraged their curiosity and learning. Not that my life wasn’t full of adventure and lessons, but it was just a very different life and lifestyle.
My memories of you are of a mysterious, quiet, yet warm presence. You had depth, strength, discipline, and a calm I’ve always appreciated. I feel like I’ve gotten to know you better as an adult through my observations, stories and photos shared with my mom and I from Aunt Kathy, and from our own brief conversations.
I think the only time you and I spent together alone—and the only memory I have of just the two of us—was a time we came to visit and you and I went on a walk. You identified plants and explained what a slough was. I can vividly remember the walk, but not all the details of what we talked about. What stays with me is your jolly laugh and warm smile. You have always carried a thoughtful and gentle presence.
As quiet as you are, I’ve enjoyed hearing about and seeing your green thumb—your talent for growing your own food and hops and the way you help with your community garden.
Uncle Scott, I just want you to know how deeply you have been respected and admired by me, even when we didn’t have many words between us. Your quiet strength, your kindness, and the way you lived your life has always mattered to me. I carry those impressions with me.
You were loved, you were appreciated, and your life made a difference. Thank you for who you are/were, for what you’ve shared, and for the quiet ways you showed care and wisdom.
I am holding you and the family in my thoughts and prayers.
With love always,
Vanessa