Missing You

Dad.  I miss you.  It's hard to believe that you haven't been around for almost four years.  God has healed me; the daily pain is gone.  But I still have my moments.  I think of you most when I'm driving alone in my car.  I hear songs on the radio that remind me of you.  In those moments, when I allow my eyes to well up and the tears to fall and I don't feel the need to hide my emotion from anyone, I feel closest to your memory.  I treasure those moments, because they are between you and I. They sneak up on me, and in that moment I can see your face, hear your voice, and feel your encouragement.  When you visit me in my thoughts and in my dreams, I remember what it was like when you were alive, if just for a few moments.  I wonder if you can see me from up there.  In a way, you must know how much we miss you.

Your son is just like you, full of emotion.  He looks like you, talks like you, and has your intelligence, your outgoing personality, and especially your temper.  He misses you a lot.  It's been hard for him.  You died in March, and he graduated high school that May.  You weren't there, but all of your brothers came to support him.  It was a proud moment, but we all missed you deeply.  It's been four years, Dad, but when we visit your gravesite, Nick still breaks down.  Last Christmas, I made him a picture collage of you, and he broke down crying.  We all still have our moments. 

You would be proud of us both.  Nick is in his third year of college.  At your funeral, your brothers really encouraged him to stay in school, because that's what you would have wanted.  He will always try to make you proud.  I am living in Denver with my boyfriend and his almost 10-year-old son.  You would like my boyfriend, Gil, and his son, Isaiah.  Nick has a girlfriend too.  Her name is Akaneki.  Our significant others know all about you, and even though they didn't get the pleasure of meeing you, they love you too.  I wish they could have gotten to meet you before you went to Heaven.

I love this picture of you and JD.  I can still hear exactly how you would say his name.  You loved kids, and they really loved you.  The boys were really small when you died, but they still remember their Uncle Andy.  Owen asked if you died becuase you ate too much candy.  Isn't that cute?  You should see how big they are now.  And Alison too, you'd be very proud of them all.

As you already know, Grandma died about a year after you.  It was hard to be back in the same church and at the same cemetary, and with the same pastor who did your funeral.  Joe and Grandpa are doing well.  Richard, Jen, and their boys are doing well.  We had dinner with Tony and Sandy about a year ago, but haven't heard from them in awhile.  Unfortunately, Samantha has some pretty serious health issues, and she's only 5 years old.  She was diagnosed with aplastic anemia and autoimmune hepatitus and had to have a bone marrow transplant from Logan.  She is doing well now, but we were all really worried about her.  Something tells me that you and Grandma know about this, and would be really proud of Vicki and Darin's strength throughout the whole ordeal. 

I don't know why I felt compelled to write you this letter, as if you'll actually read it.  You are with Jesus in Heaven now, free from your sick body, free from this world, and free for the rest of eternity.  You are in Paradise, and we are still on Earth.  But I will still miss you when my first child is born, and when I get married and my Dad isn't there to walk me down the aisle.  Although almost four years have gone by, and time just keeps pressing on without you, I treasure the spontaneous moments when you touch my heart, and inspire me to do something like this.  Your eternity has just begun, and in the blink of an eye, we'll be there with you.  Until then, know that we love you and miss you.