Thirty-two pounds. Thirty-seven pounds. Forty-two pounds. Forty-six pounds. We weighed you in the basement on the scale that I now have at the gym. I see it every day. I weigh myself on it at least five times a week and I just remembered that you stood on that scale many times but you never will again.

One hundred and eighty five pounds. One hundred and forty-eight pounds. One hundred and two pounds. Fifty-eight pounds. Twenty-six pounds. Zero pounds. We won’t be weighing you on the way down, kid. I’m sorry. I would have kept weighing you if I knew you were going to do this. If I thought it would have prevented this…

Remember how Goldie would play games with you while your dad and I were in the basement? She will be there tomorrow. I will be there tomorrow and it won’t mean a good goddamn. You’ll be there but you won’t be there. You’ll be in the basement on that scale, in my mind, in my heart, forever. So long kid…