Grace in Wilderness

Dear Lee,

This weekend is our first Father’s Day without you and I am dreading it. Mostly because I keep thinking about all the things I wish I could tell you.

May was a big month for us. You know, the kind that makes parents look at each other and wonder where the time has gone. There were quite a few milestones, the moments I always thought we would experience together.

Our oldest danced in her first recital. I watched her twirling gracefully on the stage. Wondering where you would have been sitting. Trying to record every second while watching with your eyes, grinning from ear to ear. I wish you could have been there to see her.

Our middle girl had her gymnastics meet. You would have loved how determined she was and how brave she was for trying something new. I know you would have cheered her on louder than all of the parents around us.

Our baby took her first steps. I’ve replayed that moment in my mind so many times and every time I wish you had been there to see it.

There were funny moments too. Like when one of our kiddos (not naming names) decided to cut her own hair and we had to take her to a salon to finish the job. I kept thinking about how hard you would have laughed. It instantly became one of those stories I couldn’t wait to tell you.

Our youngest has also started saying “wow” and keeping herself busy with all of her toys and books, trying her best to keep up with her older sisters. You would have found so much joy in spending time with our big girl.

Life keeps moving. The girls keep growing. Both of those things make me both grateful and sad at the time. Grateful for these three precious blessings that wouldn’t be here without you. Sad that you aren’t here to watch them grow up with me.

I wish you could see who they’re becoming.

I wish they could make you Father’s Day cards and hand them to you themselves.

I wish you could watch them grow.

I wish you could hear their stories.

I wish you were here.

This past month was beautiful. The girls laughed. They learned. They danced, tumbled, graduated, and took their first steps.

And through every beautiful moment, I had the same thought: “you should be here.” These were supposed to be your milestones, too.

We love you. We miss you. And we’ll keep sharing about you so we never forget how much you made our lives better by simply existing.

Love always,

A.

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