Dear William,

Today you are seven years old. Seven. Seven years ago right now I was looking down at your adorable little baby man face, thinking how lucky I was. Today, seven years later, I look over at you playing Minecraft with Signa, and I think the same thing. I am so very lucky. You are cute, smart, funny, sweet, and wonderful. Every day, I get comments and acknowledgement of how great you are. But I don't need other people to tell me that.

This year you have taken up swimming and piano, doing an amazing job at both. I'm very proud of and how well you do at everything you try. And even more proud of you for just trying in the first place.

It's been a tough year for me, Bubba, but having you in my life has made it a little less tough and a little more fun. You bring joy to everything, including your momma.

I love you, Big Stink.

-Momma

 

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Dear Dad,

Today you would be turning 70.  It would be a big one and it’s on a weekend, so we’d likely be there with you to celebrate. 

You’d wake up grumpy trying to show us that you didn’t think it was a big deal.  We’d go for a picnic or go to the river and I’d catch you smiling even though you were pretending to read the newspaper.   

The kids would be playing, you’d be reading and smiling, and I’d be nearby appreciating it all, smiling on the inside at the rightness of the world.

We’d go to a fancy dinner where you’d find something to complain about at first, but by the end, you would be laughing and telling everyone that you were 70 today. 

Instead, though, I’m far away from you, unable to celebrate with you on your big day.  I hope you are celebrating somehow, somewhere.  Maybe with all the grandparents I’m researching.  Maybe with all the friends and family I’ve lost.

Whatever you are doing, wherever you are, I hope you know that there is no one on Earth or in the heavens missing you more than I do right now.

Love,

Debbie