Dear Lauren, Mike, and other contributors,

This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write--publicizing thoughts on the death of my son. It's inconceivable even though I knew it was a possibility during his last year at Stanford. I will be contemplating that dichotomy the rest of my life. I have no response, only questions, mostly pointed at myself. It is a torment from which I am reeling. There's a quote in Night by Elie Wiesel about knowing God through the questions we ask. Pat and I contemplated that idea once briefly, and then went on to something else. At the time it didn't seem important. Now, all I do is question. I am completely humbled, maybe somewhat like Wiesel during the Holocaust, but mostly I feel devastation that such a pure treasure in my life is gone. He knew I loved him will all my heart. Why I could not save him? That's one of my questions.

From the depths of this personal horror, the one message that becomes clear is to thank all of you. The only relief I have received is from friends like you. Your lovely cards, long letters, flowers, trips to Connecticut, participation in Pat's funeral, organization of a memorial service at the Stanford Center in Berlin, and now another memorial service at Stanford has moved us over and over again to tears. Yes, we are in pain and your demonstrations have sharpened that pain, but that is a good thing I am learning and that is why I'm so looking forward to seeing you at the service on March 18th. You have helped me to answer a few questions. Did he have good friends? Was he loved? Yes, thanks to you. Your memorial service will give me the reminders I desperately need even though I will constantly be wondering where Pat is when I'm out there. Without them I sink into unanswered questions and personal pain. I'm learning that shared pain is easier. I am deeply grateful that you have allowed me to do that and I take comfort from reading about yours.

Pat wanted more than us in his life. He would accept nothing less. I hope we can take some solace that he wanted more because he was the dearest person on earth and he needed to give his love to another, but I am still miserable.

Sincerely,

Lisette Rimer, Pat's mom