Sherman,

Hi, it’s me again. I miss you. It’s been 200 days since I’ve seen your face. 200 days since I’ve held your hand. 200 days since you were taken express mail on a trip up to see the Father. 200 days have gone by and there has not been one where I didn’t think of you.

I thought this sadness could be healed with time but as anyone close to me would tell you, it hasn’t gotten any easier to cope. The longer you’ve been gone, the worse my breakdowns get. The pain is mind numbing and completely unbearable, each time hurting in a way I never imagined possible while a river of tears stream down my face. After I finish crying, I go unmoved. I feel nothing. To this day, I still don’t know what’s worse, feeling everything all at once or feeling nothing at all. The day you passed was one of the hardest days of my life. I knew your time on earth was coming to a close because my mom was on pins and needles all day while we were driving around town. I was in high school softball season at the time so I had to go to practice that afternoon at 4:00. When my mom dropped me off, she hugged me a little tighter than usual, and I collapsed in tears outside of her car door. I pulled myself together and walked down the asphalt path to the field and began to stretch for practice. About thirty minutes into practice my dad walked up to the field and I immediately broke down. I knew that never again would I give you a big hug and tell you how much you meant to me. We arrived at your house to comfort your family and friends as soon as we got the news. I felt like my world was shattered, and at hat point, it was.

Grief changed me; or revealed me, either way I didn’t like it. Grieving wasn’t just sitting at home crying until my pillowcase was stained with mascara. It wasn’t just hearing your name and collapsing. It wasn’t just staying up all night writing in attempts to translate my feelings into words. No, that would have been nice. Grieving was all of that and then some. It was zoning out mid-conversations and having to incessantly apologize. It was absolutely losing it at the sight of anything branded Superman. It was “being strong”, fighting back tears and continuing to live life. It was smiling and responding with fine at every “how are you?” It was getting out of bed everyday when my anxiety had taken over and told me to stay in bed, shut the blinds and pity myself.

Sure, it hasn’t been easy being here without you, but instead of worrying about the grief and the heartache, I know you would much rather us reminisce on the good times, so I just want to say thank you, Sherman.

Thank you for the massages. I don’t know what it was about those thumbs of yours but they could cure any soreness and worked twice as fast as a few Advil. Thank you for always pushing everyone to be their best self. Your impact on the youth (and the not-so-young) of Columbia is truly a work of art. Thank you for making anyone and everyone feel like your best friend. Your charming smile and open arms are one of the reasons why the rental was such a successful business and you should be so proud of yourself, I know we’re all proud of you.

Thank you for your ability to light up a room and turn around any bad day. In the deepest of moments around the dinner table at Thanksgiving, you always knew the perfect moment to crack a joke and ease the tension. Thank you for showing me what true love really is. The way that you loved Vicki and your children was so wonderful I only thought it happened in the movies, but the way that you loved Malakhi for the first six months of his life was a love like no other. Thank you for showing me the kind of friend I want and the kind of friend I want to be. Your abilities to be everywhere at once and comfort everyone at the hardest of times are definitely qualities that Columbia will never forget.

Thank you for setting my expectations of my future husband and father of my children so high. You constantly reminded me of my priceless heart and how wrong it would be to give that perfect heart away to someone who didn’t resemble Christ. Thank you for teaching me how to be humble. You had so many reasons to be proud or to gloat about your accomplishments over the course of your life, yet you never did. Who am I kidding? You wouldn’t even take a compliment!

Thank you for never giving up. You never gave up on anyone, even when they were at their lowest, and you never gave up on God when He challenged you in ways many of us never thought possible. Most importantly, thank you for being you, Sherman.

Until we meet again,

Maddie