May 22, 2006 

Dear JoLee, 

The other day as I sat at the computer in your room looking out your window (which we’re going to replace with energy efficient windows in your room in a couple days,) I saw Shannon or someone getting out of their car.  Her hair was pulled back and I momentarily was hoping it was you coming to visit.  The next day I told your mom about this and could hardly get the words out of my mouth as I was overcome with sadness.  I’m afraid I will always have tears of sadness just beneath this façade of being able to cope with the loss of one of the most important people in my life.  Just now, a cemetery worker drove by with his little tractor pulling behind him someone else in a burial vault on the same contraption they used to lower your box into the ground, next to a large pile of dirt.  Bill and I each threw handfuls of dirt onto your casket, then the guy gave us the shovel and we each threw shovels full of dirt into your resting place. 

27 paces NNE of your place lie your great-grand parents Grover C. and Amy M. Ripperton, your mothers paternal grand parents.  Your Grandpa Rip and Grandma Maureen gave us the plot where you rest.  I intend on being buried at your feet in an urn.  I’ll probably die of skin cancer or car wreck or natural causes, who knows-you probably do. 

When we clear the flowers of your gravesite, I sometimes throw ‘em into the back of my van and later put your used plastic flowers on my moms grave site, and Mamoot’s and Nanie’s and Grandma and Grandpa Cox in Bloomington, IL. 

I’ve written and produced the Scrapbook song/montage for you a couple years ago and have just finished We’ve Got Love which was written before you decided to go your own direction.  I had Coupe DeVille sing on it.  It’s done and will appear on a gospel CD to be released by IRRMA.  I am still developing my piano technique and knowledge so I can write my real musical tribute to you, but I am not quite prepared yet.  You’ll know when it’s finished. 

A few years ago we had the front steps to the house redone since you did inform me that they looked “ghetto,” now they look normal. 

I hope you’re not offended, I just snuffed out and left a cigar by your black stone bench that says SweetiePie on it. 

I hope you will come to visit me again when I sleep.  I have enjoyed your infrequent visits in the past and know when it’s really you and not just bits and fragments of memories that my brain is sorting out. 

Love, 

Dad

Here's a song I wrote and had Coupe DeVille help me sing it...WE"VE GOT LOVE  

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