They say it’s going to snow on my birthday tomorrow. The last time we talked was on my birthday. As I look out at the trees we planted for you, the wind causes their flowers to dance, to fly off the branches and into the grass. It looks like snow.

It’s been three years since you passed. Madelyn plays softball now, and is learning how to play the piano. You’d be so proud of her. Anthony is still the sweetest thirteen year old boy I’ve ever met. Sometimes when the house is quiet, and we’re all here together, it’s because we’re thinking of you. Still, when I sit on the porch and look out at the mountains, or lay on the hammock, or laugh with mom and Jeremy as we play cards, I think of you.  I find myself doing things that I used to think you were crazy for doing, like taking ice out of the freezer and putting it in a ziplock bag (and back in the freezer), or the way you fumbled through papers to do taxes. These things stop me in my tracks as I remember you doing them, me watching and wondering why. I laugh. Sometimes cry. Usually both.

Things were not always easy, but they were real. Love and miss you, dad.

Give Gran a hug for me.