Dear Pappy,

Six months ago, God called you home. I remember everything that happened here at school before I found out. It was a Friday, so I was in lab. I remember walking out of biology lab, which had ran over, and was walking to get food with a friend. I remember us talking about our grandparents as we strolled through the parking lot. I remember getting food and Jon calling me. I had this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew the fact that mom wanted us both to go to his room and call her wasn't good. I remember calling her and finding out the news. I remember losing control of myself. I cried in his room, I cried the whole way back to my room. I remember getting to my pod. I remember how everyone in my pod was so comforting. My prefect and her boyfriend made me cookies and playing card with them and the girls from my pod. I remember calling Fr. Matt and Libby. I remember Austin calling me at like 11 o'clock that night. I remember not being able to sleep. I'm pretty sure I was out of tears my the time I got in bed. Everything that happened that Friday will be forever engraved in my memory.

Waking up the next morning, I wished so hard for the previous day to have just been a dream. But, I knew it wasn't. I remember playing Frisbee the Sunday before the funeral, it helped cheered me up. I go home that day. The next day was your funeral. I agreed to serve it because I remember how proud you were of me for serving. I remember crying on the altar. I tried so hard to keep it together, but it was impossible. We took your urn to the cemetary afterwards, and I said my goodbyes to what was your physical remains.

I returned to school, thinking about you everyday. There were days when I had to remind myself that the next time I went home, you weren't going to be there. And yes, it hurt to admit that, but I know it was for the best. Thanksgiving and Christmas just weren't the same without you there. It feels weird to walk into the house and to not see you in the back room.

Now, here I sit, six months later. On my dorm bed, with Spotify playing in the background as I write this letter. Hanging around my neck is a cross necklace. But it's not just a normal cross, it has your thumbprint in it. I haven't taken it off except for my shows and to shower. I wear as a reminder that you are always with me. When I have a bad day, I think about all the great memories I have of you. I remember when you took your old shirts and turned them into super hero caps for us. I remember you always being able to fix our toys. You healed our boo-boos. You dried our tears. Anytime we needed something signed, you would offer to put your "John Hancock" on it. I remember you picking us up from school and offering us snacks you kept under the seat in the van. I remember mom telling me how you smiled as you watched me be a Eucharistic Minister for the first time. You were also so proud of me.

I hope you are enjoying your time in heaven. I hope there are lots of trains, puzzles, and nutcrackers up there for you.

Until we meet again, I love you forever and always. Rest easy Pap.

I love you.