Are you all still there?

Dear FutureMe, Our boy just finished middle school and we cried like a baby because . . . because the beginning of his life was such a maybe. Now, if we are very lucky, he graduated from high school last year and we cried and cried because in your future we have come twice as far as we have in my present. If we were not lucky, I don't want to become the you you are without him. I'm sure you would be a great person either way, because we are a good person. But I don't want you to live through losing him. No matter what happens, I know I will change, but I never want to change that much. Our girl is so lovely. By now you will know if she has the BRAC1 gene mutation or not. Right now I'm afraid of the test, but it must be taken soon. I hope she doesn't have it and when you read this you think, "Oh, yeah, I remember when I was worried about that." If she has it, I hope there's a cure by now. . . or the preventative care is in place for her. If she has it, her dad has it too. Future me, disease sucks and diseases that stalk our children never stop sucking even in the future do they? Our girl has just graduated and is almost eighteen. I bet she's amazing. I bet she's a math champion and the most gorgeous nerd on the planet. Isn't she? Did she go to prom this year? Did she ever get to go to Hogwarts in GB? Remember tomorrow, when she had her skating party? Did you ever take the kids back to Disneyland? How was your 25th anniversary? Are you still in that job? Did you ever quit your charity work and take a nice long break? Was that charity event I'm planning right now a big flop or a mile success. Did you wear your sunblock and avoid more basal cell carcinomas . . . I hope so. Did your second book get published? Are you still a hypochondriac? How are your sisters? How are their kids? I wonder about these things. . . What is your husband teaching and where? Do you look at the photos of me today and think, "How young I was then." Do we still have just one chin? Future me, my biggest hope for us is that these questions don't hurt you because the answers are so hard. I hope we're still writing and still in our cozy house. I hope the dog is still alive. He just turned one . . . now he will be nine. I hope he's still bouncy and happy. Did his hair turn gray? Future me, you are as old as our dad was when he died. . . forty-eight. It seemed so old when we were twenty-two. I wish twenty-two year-old-us had written a letter, but the internet was still so new back then and so was she. She had no idea that was just the first blow life would deal us. I hope the wind has died down and we are living more fully and less fearfully. I hope that we are much less afraid in the future. I hope you remember me and shake your head at how fearful I am because you are so much braver now than I am then. No matter what happens, I hope you have let go of the past, and that I am echo of the pain we carry right now. I love you future self, Current Self