I'm here; I'm waiting, but you probably don’t know it.

I'm dying for you to come out so we can talk, but I won't show it;

I'm listening to stories of when ice-cream cakes were a dollar and milk was 79¢ a gallon, but you're not here to jump in and join the conversation;

there's an ache deep inside my chest that I believe is fear;

But I’m wrong, it's not fear, it's hurt; I'm hurting inside very much right now;

I'm sitting here and one minute I'm fine and the next minute I start thinking; then the hurt settles in; but I know why this is;

I hurt because of the memories; I miss them; the feelings of slight aggravation when you'd whistle for me to come from fishing; I miss them, too;

Wondering why you would brake so early when approaching every intersection; I miss that;

The long-winded but rightfully had conversations about honoring mom and dad and making them happy; I miss those;

Deciding to get potpie at a moments notice because that was your favorite thing to eat; I miss that;

Waking up after spending a night at your house only to find you had already put the coffee on and gotten our favorite McDonald's breakfast; I miss that;

Your easygoing and gentle spirit that I always learned so much from; I miss it;

Walking with Nana at Walmart and checking up on you to make sure you were OK sitting on the bench up front; I miss that;

Telling you I'm capitalizing on the sacrifices you made for our family; sharing accomplishments I've achieved from the life you helped make possible for me; I miss that;

Perhaps the greatest of these small but meaningful memories is this: I miss telling you that I love you; I miss it so much it hurts;

And as I write these words, I realize how much they pale in comparison to the greatest heartfelt gratitude I have for all you did for our family;

So I sit here, waiting; waiting to have spaghetti for dinner, because that's what Nana made.