Dear Beloved Family of Farmers Insurance:
You are one gracious institution comprised of gracious, giving people. From the day of Robb’s death, you have swallowed our family in the nearby miles, from surrounding states, on the west coast, and always over the miles of cyberspace.
I wrote yesterday that I wanted to bring cookies, that I stopped short when it seemed nobody remembered my husband. In saying this, I fear I misrepresented you: the truth is – I gave up before I could get to any of you. I called the wrong number, and I gave my emotional energy to people who never knew him, us, our story, to begin with.
But if I had found you… oh, if I had found you.
Thank you for the memories you hold of him in Denver, for naming your training conference room after him. He loved to teach in that space.
Thank you for your plaque on the wall in California, for remembering that he was an all-around great guy.
Thank you for the book your graphics team created for me, a compilation of pictures and stories from people all over the country.
Many, many a widow discovers horrific truths about her husband after he has died – secrets, infidelities, lies, dualities. In your gifts to me, I have learned much about him; he was a mentor, a friend, a leader, investing in his community in ways he never told me. In your gifts, I have learned that he was an even better man than I thought he was.
And I thought he hung the moon.
Thank you for remembering him. I would love to bring cookies to you. Let’s work on that reunion. :)
“We are Farmers.”
So much love,