April 28, 2017

To My Love On What Would Have Been Your 35th Birthday

You are the one I thought would get away. You are the one I wanted to stay forever. Your hands are the ones I wanted to never let go. Your voice was the only one I wanted to always hear saying, "I love you. I'm glad you're mine."

You were always late (which was your version of on time.) You would play your guitar for two hours and insist it had only been 30 minutes. You could take lots of random pieces and make something spectacular in no time. You could fix anything. You were terrible at golf. You were a fabulous daddy. You fought so hard, but never truly believed you were worth forgiveness or better health.

You were a giver; of your time, your talents, your love, and just the one thing someone needed.

You hated having your picture taken. You hated people noticing you at all. You were the best one to watch all the Aaron Sorkin TV shows with; Sports Night, The West Wing, Studio 60, and The Newsroom. Your sense of humor was totally dorky. You had that special Texas sense of fashion. You loved how easily a show or movie could move me to laughter or tears. You were a lover of good music, regardless of style.

You are living on through your children; they look like you, act like you, live like you. Your giving spirit and loving heart is your legacy to them. Your desire to see them saved and living their lives to make Him known is being realized, little by little, day by day.

Your name, whether in reference to you or not, will always bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye as your face alone comes to mind. Your guitar in your hands will be what I picture every time I hear a song with a beautiful finger-picking guitar part. Your laugh is what I will hear every time one of the kids tells another corny joke. Your life will push me on to more compassion and love toward others. Your pain and your fight will increase the fight in me as I see the Lord redeeming and bringing purpose to that pain day by day. Your story will draw praise from my lips every time I tell it. Your life will not be forgotten. Your life is not summed up or defined by addiction or the way you died, but by the truth that you were a child of God who was loved and welcomed home by a Father who gave His Son in your place before you ever took one breath on this planet.

You were a good man. You were a loving man. You were my man. And I miss you. And I can't wait to take the kids out to celebrate you today by surprising others with sweet little gifts.

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