In Remembrance
Hi, Mom,
Today marks eight years of a world that no longer has your smile to see, your laughter to hear, your heart to love. The fall colors on the leaves and the crisp fresh air came and went with Halloween and Thanksgiving. The winter snow and cold slid by without you to have a fire in the fireplace and decorate the house for Christmas with the handmade items my brother and I made as kids. The spring thunderstorms have come without you to sit out on the porch and watch. The summer heat was there to finally get you warm and the Minnesota State Fair has come around again without you there to browse through the Grandstand booths, shop in Heritage Square and of course, have a walleye-on-a-stick all for yourself.
Life moves on, as it always has. Last year at this time, I was in California, smiling and starting to enjoy the life that I was slowly building out there. I had someone in my heart & was thinking of the future. Little did I know a few months later that I’d have all of it ripped out from under me. I’ve found friends and lost them. I’ve made my choices and dealt with the results. Moving on is not easy to do, but I must do it, I know.
I wonder what you’re thinking as you look in on all of us down here. We’ve all moved on in our own ways, let the events of our lives take over and guide us where they may. Are you smiling as Dad becomes Grandpa to your granddaughters? Do you laugh as I do when you see him playing with the kids while being the big kid we know he is? Do you sigh and remember my brother and I as kids, helping our grandpa in the garage much as your granddaughter is now? Your niece and nephew, both of which you held in your arms when they born, have grown as well. Your niece is officially a teenager and your nephew will be one soon, too. They’ve traveled to many places & have a great joy for everything around them.
You are not forgotten, Mom, but you are always missed, no matter what the day, time, place or happenings.
I love you, Mom!
Link to last year's letter: http://marauderswolf.livejournal.com/141110.html
Today marks eight years of a world that no longer has your smile to see, your laughter to hear, your heart to love. The fall colors on the leaves and the crisp fresh air came and went with Halloween and Thanksgiving. The winter snow and cold slid by without you to have a fire in the fireplace and decorate the house for Christmas with the handmade items my brother and I made as kids. The spring thunderstorms have come without you to sit out on the porch and watch. The summer heat was there to finally get you warm and the Minnesota State Fair has come around again without you there to browse through the Grandstand booths, shop in Heritage Square and of course, have a walleye-on-a-stick all for yourself.
Life moves on, as it always has. Last year at this time, I was in California, smiling and starting to enjoy the life that I was slowly building out there. I had someone in my heart & was thinking of the future. Little did I know a few months later that I’d have all of it ripped out from under me. I’ve found friends and lost them. I’ve made my choices and dealt with the results. Moving on is not easy to do, but I must do it, I know.
I wonder what you’re thinking as you look in on all of us down here. We’ve all moved on in our own ways, let the events of our lives take over and guide us where they may. Are you smiling as Dad becomes Grandpa to your granddaughters? Do you laugh as I do when you see him playing with the kids while being the big kid we know he is? Do you sigh and remember my brother and I as kids, helping our grandpa in the garage much as your granddaughter is now? Your niece and nephew, both of which you held in your arms when they born, have grown as well. Your niece is officially a teenager and your nephew will be one soon, too. They’ve traveled to many places & have a great joy for everything around them.
You are not forgotten, Mom, but you are always missed, no matter what the day, time, place or happenings.
I love you, Mom!
Link to last year's letter: http://marauderswolf.livejournal.com/141110.html