It’s weird. I’ve talked to you more in the past week than I have the past six months. Getting an uninitiated text from you was a strange occasion.

I guess that’s what happens when you have nothing but 18 hours of TV, time, and self-administered pain meds.

She called me on Tuesday. The way she began the conversation had me concerned. Dancing around the subject for a little too long.

“He finally went to the doctor. His sister made him promise, so he finally did it…they took an MRI and found that his vertebrae had fused together…he couldn’t lift his head at all, pain was too much…Dr. Ostrup said he could perform the surgery this Friday…they haven’t decided if they’re going in through the front or the back…there are the usual complications and risks, and then there are others. Like C5 Palsy, which makes it so you can’t lift your arms…yes, he’s going to do it…okay, love you too.”

Friday arrived unceremoniously – or as unceremonious as a Friday can be. People are always in good spirits. Always like to talk about how it’s Friday. What else can you say?

She sent us updates throughout the surgery and the recovery. She was our eyes and our worries. She was our telescope into your fragile universe, our cardboard tube into your imaginary world, hanging on a thread as thick as a spinal cord.

I don’t love that you had to get that surgery. But I did love how much you talked to me. I loved the neediness of your conversations. The sentences that lasted just a beat extra because you didn’t want to hang up. The jokes—self-conscious at first—lumped in a silly mass on top of the connection that had always been traced there but never filled in.

The surgeon put 16 screws in his neck to give the vertebrae room to breathe and move. To take the pressure off. 16 screws!

When he came home, I was there. I hugged him gently and rushed to grab a cold Coke and straw from the kitchen.

You shuffled your way across the family room, briefly brushing by the hellos and how are yous. You were on a mission to the sun. I could tell that you had been thinking about this moment for a while. As soon as you sat down, time slowed for you. And the buttery warmth of the Autumn sunshine fell upon your face.