In Memoriam
It seems hard to believe that it’s been a year since you’ve been gone. Today I found myself thinking of little things I’ve missed this past year. I miss the messages on our answering machine. I miss the humour that, more often than not, crossed several lines. I miss the gifts for the kids, the construction sets that came with a gazillion pieces and hurt like you know what when you stepped on them. I miss all the woodworking projects. I miss the looks on Mark’s face when he was talking to you, and just KNOWING you were saying something off the wall, and looking forward to him getting off the phone so I could find out what it was. I miss you calling and saying “This is Dad”… almost right away, and learning pretty quickly it wasn’t just a word to you, that you just happily accepted everyone into your life. I miss the wooden canes. I miss you teaching me how to play guitar. I still have the sheet music with chords on it, tucked away, but don’t want to learn how to play because you’re not here to teach me. I miss hearing you play and sing. More than anything I miss your laugh.
If I had to pick one thing I am the most grateful for, in getting to know you, it was how when you first met my boys… children who were not biologically related to you… you treated them as your own. Anyone on the outside looking in would never have known otherwise. From the beginning, you became “Grandpa Jim” to all of them, you accepted and loved them equally, and I really can’t put into words how much that meant to me.
Maybe the closest I can come to expressing it, is to add what Aric, my oldest son, helped write and read on the day of your funeral. It may sound cliche’ but it really couldn’t be more true: While you may be gone, you certainly are not forgotten.
