Dear Dad…

(Our travels continue, but the significance of today’s date outweighs the importance of our stories from the road. I’ll wrap those up later this week.)

Dear Dad,

I can hardly believe that today marks five years since you so abruptly left us. The events of that particular day unfolded so swiftly that it left us little time to process the magnitude of what really happened and absolutely no time to tell you goodbye. You were with us one second and gone the next. And, so much of what we should and would have told you if we had known your time was so short was simply never said. So, here we are five years later still missing you and still longing for that elusive closure.

A lot, of course, has changed in five years. You would be so impressed, so blown away, by the strength and courage Mom has displayed. Much like you did, she has found her niche in healthcare where her compassion for people gives her a sense of purpose and fulfillment. She is good at what she does, and her patients and co-workers affirm her in that role. She misses you more than I can communicate, but she is still full of life and personality and still has her endearing sense of humor. Somehow, she finds the energy and willpower necessary to make forward steps. She would make you so proud in countless ways.

And, speaking of proud… J. would give you a dose of pride, too. He’s through college (with a BS in biology of all things!) and out working on his own while he considers graduate school options. He’s figuring life out one decision at a time, but he’s thoughtful and purposeful in his planning. It’s so strange, but he’s grown up. He even has a precious girlfriend you never had the chance to meet. You would recognize his red hair, but your son has grown from a boy to a man in five years.

Our family has grown, too. You are the granddaddy of three little girls. H. has a daughter now who will be two this winter. She surprised us all and came a bit early, but she has more than caught up and proves to be a smart and lively toddler. She has her Daddy’s white blonde hair and some mysterious wild curls. Like her mother, she is soft-spoken and gentle. She loves her dog, Ellie, and she especially likes to play outside. Her smile and toddle would melt you.

My own little family has doubled in size. K. and I have two daughters who keep us on our toes, if not our knees. While their cousin is quiet and gentle by nature, our two are bouncing off the ceilings and have the volume to match their energy. They’re strong-willed and spirited. But, we are most grateful for their vitality and excited to see how God will use their passion. They teach us more lessons and bring us more joy than we could have ever imagined. We are blessed to love and raise them, and you would enjoy knowing them as much as they would delight in knowing you. By the way, the oldest one absolutely loves to play “doctor.” 🙂

So, here we are in 2010, missing your presence in each of our lives but moving forward in full confidence of your presence with our Savior and great hope in a sweet future reunion with you. You can be certain that you never fully left us because so much of your legacy lives on in us–the family you knew–and in the personalities and features of the grandchildren you never met. You may have been a man of few words, but you were also a man of compassion who prioritized family and faith, and for that, we were influenced and are grateful. So, on this day and every day, we thank you for the life you lived, we miss you in the days we’re living, and we love you.