It doesn't feel right.
This "new" normal.
This is not another TDY assignment. This is not Viet Nam. You are not coming back.
Little things happen, and I want to call you, talk like we always did, just to chat...but you are not here.
It doesn't feel right...but it is starting to...and I don't want it to. I don't want life to feel right without you here.
I am glad for a few things - the images of the end are fading, and the healthy memories are becoming stronger; and somehow, I cannot explain, I have changed. The things that used to irritate me and drive me up the wall just don't bother me anymore.
I am still growing.
As fathers, we don't always do the things we planned, say the things we were hoping to say, and act the way we really felt in our hearts. All we can hope for is the message gets across.
It did.
You were not perfect, but you pointed me to perfection.
Like a relay, I was running before we ever had our final encounter. When you passed the baton, I was almost at full speed, and could not look back as you finished your race - all I could do was run with all my might, all my heart, for the prize before me.
It's funny, you were a part of this race and now you are with so many others, cheering as we run.
Yes, it is different now.
But it will be okay.
As I said in the hospital - there is no time in eternity. You will walk through Heaven's gates and turn around, and the lifetime we have here on Earth will be as a moment to you, and all of us will be together once again.
I am reminded of life long ago, you were such a young father, and you had 3 little boys counting on Daddy. We slept peacefully, knowing you did the right things, there was no doubt in our minds, you were Daddy, you were Superman, you were our hero.
You never let us down.
So, like a little boy wearing Daddy's oversized shoes, I am rattling around here until I make this stuff fit.
Keep on cheering Dad, you set a good pace for us.
