Unsent Letter: 005

August 18, 2026

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry I haven't written much. Maya broke my typewriter and I haven't found time to buy a replacement. It's really broken — the carriage won't even move. I found a few others I'm considering. But, admittedly, I just haven't had it in me. I find it extremely odd how fascinated I am by something so ancient. The sound of keys clacking against the paper. The metal, the refined look of a bygone era.

Anyway, between Maya pushing that onto the floor and going "oops," I really haven't had much to say. I wasn't sure if you'd care about words without meaning.

So to share — I finished my book, The Witness Remains, in May. I've been pitching it to agents and publishers, and while the response has been positive and two offers were made, I have yet to accept one. I'm not sure that they fit with my vision. Anyway, excitedly, I started my second book, and wow — I thought my first book was scary because it was dealing with the nightmares I had following your murder, and trying to convey that on paper as a way for healing was... tough. This book is frightening. Like I have to stop writing — it gives me chills.

The book follows two different POVs — a serial killer and one of its victims. Anyway, that's all I want to say about it. But I've written a good amount, closing in on ten thousand words already.

Ok, on to probably the most important thing... Bruce — baby Bruce was born. He was nearly 7 lbs. He was early. But boy, that kid is a tank. Mija's mom calls him "tah-Kaw," and in Tagalog it means chunky kid that eats a lot. I have to laugh at it. But he sure loves his momma. There are days — every day, really — that I'll do everything I can think of and it doesn't console him. So I wake his mom up, apologetically, and ask what to do, and the minute she holds him, he starts cooing. Now I understand how different a son and mother's relationship is, and it reminded me of you. A lot. I think processing that was difficult because of how much I loved you as a kid and how much I miss you as an adult. Life is hard, mom — at 40 years old, I'm finally understanding just how hard life can be if you let it get you down. I'm thankful for therapy, for learning to understand my mind, and for meditation.

Returning to breath — returning to my calmness. It all helps. Living in the emotion — but understanding it at the same time — certainly helps. I'm sorry you didn't get help, or couldn't get help, because of your addiction. But I understand.

Tom's doing good. He certainly misses you. Every time we talk about you, I can hear him choke up a bit. He doesn't share his emotions as much as I do. But I just know. He really loved you.

Your grandson — Bronx — was accepted into the #4 high school in America: Thomas Jefferson. He's playing football this year. I had requested he not play, after playing myself and seeing all of my friends get concussions, but obviously his mom just ignored me. Nevertheless, I still plan to watch his games.

Anyway, that's about it. Madison still loves to read. Maya — is a menace. Just this last weekend she hit the "big red button" that called EMS while Mija and I were around, and I heard Mija scream "No!" I just had to laugh to myself because I knew exactly what happened. I love her, I love them all. I miss you.

All my love,
Brad