Many years ago, after the death of my oldest son, I traveled to beautiful South Padre Island at the southern tip of Texas. This is a place I had visited many times over the previous years, and I sought it out almost as a wounded animal seeks a refuge. I spent two months on the island, walking the beach daily, and on those walks I went back in time, remembering family history. I thought of all the happy times and the many tragedies we had overcome. During that time I wrote numerous letters to my two sons, who were suffering the same heartache. Eventually it became clear, in the walking, and thinking, and writing, that we, as a family would learn to remember Randy in the good times. The grief and sadness would never be erased, but it could be muted as we concentrated on the positive. I have been told that this history reads like a tale of fiction. It is a true story of my family. These are the letters I wrote to my sons.