It will be 19 years on Christmas day when you left the constraints of your earthly body and entered into the presence of the Great Physician. We all miss you. A lot has changed since your passing. Your granddaughters are all grown up, both finished college and are starting their own adult lives. No tattoos or DUI’s; we are so proud of them. I have a son that you never met. He will be 14-years old this summer; very social, extremely out-going, with a gentle heart. You would love him. Lisa is still keeping me in my place; she tells me when I am acting like dad. Over the years, she tried to make the donuts and the bread that you used to make, but they didn’t turn out as good as yours. Still, I have a great life.

I should start by filling you in on the good news; I too made it through college, twice in fact. Same for me; no tattoos, or in my case, speeding tickets. I got out of construction about 15-years ago and now I am an accountant of all things. Can you believe that I have a desk job? Who would have thought…Anyway, your son, the one that barely made it through high school, has taken up writing as a way to encourage others to focus on what they do have and what they can do. I will get to why in a little bit.

Today is Mother’s day, so my thoughts turn to my wife and how she has been such a great role model and mother to my kids but I am also reminded of all you did for me. You always supported me. When I told you that I quit my job to start a company, you questioned why I would quit a good job that paid $7.50 per hour, but encouraged me nonetheless. When I moved out of your house and into my own, you made sure that I was still cared for. In your own gentle way, you loved me and taught me so much. I know the last few years were not easy for you; I suspect that your mind was aware of what was going on around you but you had no way to express yourself. As the effects of your strokes progressed during your final years, it was apparent that you were still fighting even to the end. This lesson is serving me well.

There is something that you should know, I have Parkinson’s; a disease that gets progressively worse as time goes on, but like you, I keep fighting. I have no intention of letting this physical limitation define what type of father and husband that I want to be. I think that you would be proud.

We will visit your grave today and place some flowers that you would have loved. But we know that you are not there; we know that you are in a better place. You left me with that promise as well. I live with the assurance that you are free from your physical limitations and will soon have a restored body. While here on earth, I know I will have to live with some limitations, but I too will be freed from the impact of my degenerative disease.

You always taught us to be thankful for what we have, and we are, as we have more than we need. You taught us with your gentle spirit, how to face adversity with grace. Most of all, you taught us the difference between doing what is right and what is harmful to others. I confess, that at times, I am still a work in process. I have a beautiful family, none of which could have been possible without your influence. The things that matter most will be passed down to the next generation because of you.

I miss you.

By the way, if you see dad, tell him we got a new puppy.