Ten years ago you spent your last Christmas with us. What I would give to have that Christmas back. Words can't express how much I miss you. How much we all miss you. That was the last Christmas everything was normal. Two days later you were diagnosed with cancer. Four months and a day after that, we lost you. And our world was flipped upside down.
You should be here. I didn't know this was possible. That life without you was possible. I spent half of my life with you. And so far, the other half stinks without you. You're in the back of my mind every day. I guess, in that way, you are still here.
You're in our hearts. You're in our conversations. You're on our jerseys. You're in picture frames. You're on the Christmas tree. You're here in ever way, but physically.
You'd be so proud of us. We're all doing really well. We're growing up. And did you know that there's a new one?! You left with nine grandchildren. There's ten now. He showed up in October after you passed. He's just like you. Actually, the older I get, the more I see you in all of us.
I often wonder what you'd say these days. Or how different things would be if you were still here. But I do know that, in your absence, we'll laugh a little harder and love a little more. We're all here because of you and there's no place else I'd rather be.
As we unwrap presents and fill you house with so much noise and joy, I'll sit back and remember Christmas 2006 and wish you were here.
Merry Christmas in Heaven! I love you!