Dear Papaw,

It’s coming up on two whole years since you left us. When my mama reminded me of that yesterday, I was like, “Wow, has it really been that long?” When I thought on it, early in the morning, sitting in the dark by myself, I wished you were back for probably the thousandth time since you passed away.

I know you’re much better off now than you were when you passed away, or for a year and a half before then. You wouldn’t have liked living like you did, if you would have known how the last year and a half of your life would be spent. But God, do I miss you whenever I’m reminded of the fact that you’re not here for me to give you hugs and steal your baseball caps from you.

You were the only constant male figure in my life. My dad was hardly ever around, but you were all the time. You were there for everything you could be-all my birthdays, all the holidays, all my talent shows, all my middle and high school chorus concerts, all my musical theater opening nights, and my graduation from high school. It kills me that you won’t be there in the seats for my college graduation, but I know you’ll be watching from where you are.

I wish I could have talked to you more. I wish I could chit-chat about the world and history with you. I love history, Papaw, and I’m so glad that I have that in common with you. You were so smart, and I wish I had thought to talk to you about all the things you knew. I also wish I had talked to you about cars, or cartoons, or most of all, life. There are so many unanswered questions and unsaid things.

For instance, I bet you didn’t know that I intended on having you walk me down the aisle at my wedding whenever I meet someone who loves me like you loved Mamaw. I could tell how much you loved her by the flowers you would give her for Easter, or the fact that you never forgot an anniversary or Valentine’s Day or birthday.

I hope my future husband is as good of a person as you were. Sure, no one is perfect, I’m sure you had flaws like everyone else does, but the only thing I remember that I ever got irritated with you about is rushing around the historical site we visited with Mamaw and Jodie on vacation in St. Augustine, so if I can find someone as good as I remember you being, I’ll be set for life.

I want to thank you for always being there. You helped me, Mama, and Jodie move several times-you were the muscles behind the operation. You also helped us when our car messed up, because you were our personal mechanic. You never talked a whole lot, but this was how you said, “I love you.” Something I never even thought to thank you for, but something that remains important, is the fact that when I got a serious injury at the age of six, and was knocked unconscious, you kept me breathing.

You knew CPR and mouth-to-mouth, and you performed both until the paramedics got there and took over. Had you not done that, I could have lost a lot of oxygen and become disabled, or died. So, while I might have survived either way, since 911 had already been called, I believe I owe you my life-if not my life itself, my mental condition in my life.

I miss you so much, Papaw, and I feel it heavily in October, because not only is it going to be two years since you haven’t been here, but it would have been your seventy-eighth birthday on the 18th. I hate that you’re gone. There was so much of your life left to experience, but the disease that you had took what was once a great mind away, and it eventually took you, too.

You would have gotten to see your first great-grandchild this past April, and you would get to see your next one in November. They’ll both know what a good man you were, though, because you were always there for both Sophia’s mom and Caiden’s dad. You loved all your children and grandchildren, and you would have loved your great-granddaughter and great-grandson, too. We know you’re in a better place now, but we feel your absence, especially now.

I wish I could get one last hug, and hear you absentmindedly singing before someone pointed out that you had a good voice and you stopped. I wish I could see your smile, and sit next to you at Mamaw’s kitchen table while you ate a bowl of soup in the afternoon. I miss you so much.

I love you Papaw, and I hope to see you again one day.

Love,

Emily