Today, I have woken up 365 days without you.
This very morning, a year ago, I woke up, anxious to get an update from one of my aunts about how you were doing. The news was bittersweet… you’d gone in the early morning, but your soul was finally in the place where it had longed to be, as a believer.
This very morning, a year ago, I tried to go to work, but had to leave.
The days leading up to this day, a year ago, were the most sad days my love for someone had ever experienced.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss you & your big bear hugs.
There isn’t a supper that goes by that I don’t hear you praying over the meal & always thanking Jesus for dying on the cross for our sins before saying, “Amen.”
There isn’t a lake trip that happens without me seeing you in the driver’s seat of the boat, saying, “One for the money, two for show, three to get ready & four to go,” as I adjust my life-jacket before jumping off the front seat into the deep, green lake water.
There isn’t a morning that goes by that I don’t wish that I could hear you say, “Good morning, beautiful,” as I head out to work.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could see you imitate Mamaw using a tissue or just hear you pick at Mamaw.
There are so many things I miss about life with you, but I know you’re not missing life on earth in a physically disabled body.
I know that you have a new body, capable of climbing up on the tractors in heaven & wrapping someone in the most bear-like hug.
So, today, I am missing you & remembering all the ways in which you were a blessing to me & so many others.
I love you & I’ll see ya later, alligator.