May 23

Little sweetheart, eleven years ago today, I learned that my mom had died. 

I was in London for the Finborough Theatre production of my play Seven Pages Unsigned. I’d just arrived two days before. Rehearsals were to begin in the morning and I was too excited to sleep, so at about 4am, I checked my email and I had one subject-lined “EMERGENCY - YOU MUST COME HOME” in all caps. 

I couldn’t dial out internationally because I didn’t know how and I was alone. I feared the worst and called the friend’s - Kris & Joy - whose flat I was staying at while they were on holiday in Wales. Joy told me how to dial out, I called and got the news. 

Then, I called you in San Francisco. When I told you, you burst into tears and then told me to get on Skype so you could see and help me. You and your mom arranged fights for me to return and even a car service from North London to Heathrow. 

While I was flying back to New York, heartbroken, you packed up one of my suits that was hanging in your closet, and got on a plane to meet me in Detroit. When I landed at JFK, you told me to go home to my apartment, sleep and get on a flight the next morning. You spent the night, all night, at Detroit Metro, waiting for me to arrive. 

When I saw you, I ran to you and you took me in your arms. Your arms, that held me up all that week through everything as I buried my mother. 

Ten months later, I would lose you, too. 

You did so much for me, little sweetheart, but this act of love and kindness may have been the most incredible. 

I will love you forever. I miss you terribly. And I pray with faith that I will be with you again, forever and soon. 

With all my love.