Because I Miss You

Dear Poppa,

Today as I was dropping Hunter off at school, I saw a man walking on the street who reminded me of you. I have seen him before: short in stature, groomed salt & pepper hair, brown skin, shirt tucked into his trousers, speed walking along the sidewalk. Perhaps taking a morning stroll before work? I wonder if he wears a pedometer like you did.

Basically any man in his 50s who wears nice, shiny shoes and button-up shirts tucked into Dockers with a leather belt reminds me of you. They are everywhere. They usually put a smile on my face, but today, when I saw that man, it stung. It usually stings the most around holidays, but it's not your birthday or my birthday or Father's Day or Christmas or even the anniversary of when you left this world. It's just an ordinary day, and every ordinary day I miss you, but today it's the kind of missing that stings.

There is still so much I wish I could say to you, show you, do with you. Like how sorry I am for pushing all the wrong buttons (and not just when I was a teenager -- I did that well into my 20s), like how much your grandson looks like you, like taking just one more father-daughter trip with Lauren.

Your being gone, it's going to sting sometimes because I really, really miss you.



  1. I am with you friend! we miss them every day! It was too soon for them to leave... too soon for us to live without them... so many things we would like to tell them, show them, share with them... it sucks.

    1. Indeed, it sucks, friend. I was just telling Isaiah how I have such a long time to live without him because he died so young. So many big hugs for you!


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