Remembering

His father died last week.
Not unexpected, but still hard.
A hole now in his heart.
Writing a note to him this morning made me think about my Dad who died two years ago. I think of him nearly every day. I still feel the last hug he gave me. And, I remember what he said to me and the love and sense of loss in his voice as he gave me that hug. I remember the songs he and my Mom sang in the car as we left home for our family vacation. I remember the conversation we had when I didn’t win the Most Valuable Player Award in the Little League All Star game and someone else did. All those memories and so many more.
Sometimes those memories make me smile.
Other times they bring tears to my eyes.
But, I am grateful for each and every one of them.
In my note this morning, I included this quote by Frederick Buechner which echos over and over again within me.
“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again you will know me. It means that even after I die you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.”

Dad, thank you.
I remember.