Tomorrow will be eleven years.
Eleven years since I met you at the gas station. You teased me about wrecking your cool guy image in front of all the young riders. I could kick myself for not staying longer. Hugging you longer.
Eleven years to the day since I said, "Don't kill yourself on that bike before you walk me down the aisle." You laughed....eleven years since I heard you laugh. I miss that laugh. A lot.
You've missed a lot. Two more grandbabies this year - that makes six. SIX! And one more on the way! You would be so proud of them. George, Andrew, Carli Grace, Lydia, Hattie and Monroe...they are AWESOME!
And the boys...they are good daddies...amazing daddies. They learned from your mistakes and are working hard not to make the same ones. And all your amazing dad qualities...man qualities...yeah, they have those too. And they are using them...using them well. I'd say you wouldn't believe it if you could see it, but I think you would believe it...expect it...you expected us to be more. And they are.
I've missed you this year. You know that.
Tomorrow all your kids and grandkids will be in one place. We'll eat and laugh...a lot. We'll trade babies and talk. The boys will wrestle with the kids. And the only thing that will be missing is you.