Heaven's Not that Far

Two years have past and it hardly seems like that long. I know most people deal with death and loss and great sadness, yet it still feels so lonely. I share a number of siblings that feel the same way I do, but there I find no comfort. I miss you more than I thought I would. I want to call you when the Bears blow big games and I want to avoid your phone calls when the Cubs disappoint me. But my phone doesn't ring. It's obvious I miss you. I just didn't imagine it would hurt this much for this long. I'm having surgery at the end of March and I want you to be there. I want you to drive me to the hospital and complain about the way Indiana drivers commute. I want to sit in the surgical waiting area with you by my side prepared, as always, with the latest gossip magazines to keep me busy. We won't even thumb through them as we would be sitting around making fun of various wardrobe choices or bad hair-doe's on others as they pass by or accompany us in waiting. You'll tell me a lame joke. One you've told me more than fifteen times with your mouth wide open as you give the punch line with a gleeful heart and a non-nervous attitude. When the hospital staff comes by you would walk with me as far as they would let you and you'd kiss my forehead making sure I knew that you'd be there when I was through. My heart is so sad today. But in the instance my eyes fill I am reminded of my fortunes. No. You will not be there in the way that I long for you, but because you helped give me life, I was able to help create another life. My little miracle, my daughter, my Autumn. So many times she looks at me with this sarcastic little attitude she MUST have gotten from her grandfather. Her stubbornness is one only copied from you and the way she holds her mouth wide open when she tells her toddler jokes is all too familiar. Oh how you would love her. Your mother tells me she sees you in that gorgeous child and can't keep her own tears from falling. For now I will end the evening by going into my baby's room. I will cover her up and put her favorite giraffe where she can find it in the night. I will sweep the hair from her face and kiss her on the forehead. I will see her tomorrow. I will wake up refreshed and I will go to work. I will hold you close to my soul until I am blessed enough to see you again, where I know you will be waiting for me.

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