First kiss...

Dear Sara,

It was 16 years ago today...Friday, October 27, 1995. 

You had asked me to go to Homecoming with you. You, the shy girl, beat me to the punch by just a few minutes...I would have asked you...you were so pretty and I just needed a few more minutes to work up the gumption. I'm glad you asked. :)

We went to the Homecoming dinner. I remember waiting for you in the lounge, so nervous, almost giddy. You came down from your room wearing a beautiful little black dress. The night went by so fast, and yet so slowly. I remember going to the after dinner party in downtown Jackson. We watched a movie...sort of. We went for a carriage ride through the city streets...and talked about us. We'd been spending a lot of time together...friends were buzzing about whether or not we were "a thing." We walked around the downtown area for a while after the carriage ride. I asked you if you liked the thought of "us." You said, "yes." Your eyes sparkled so beautifully, you were so modest and shy. We held hands, walking close together, our joy fighting the late October chill.

We drove back to Spring Arbor and hung out in the lounge a little while longer, but not too late. I remember it was getting close to midnight and we were both getting tired. You walked outside with me, as I was walking to my car...we stopped as we got to the end of the dorm...we said good night...and I kissed you...and you kissed me. Our first kiss. It's the only first kiss I remember so vividly. I floated home that night...alive with joy and excitement.

I miss your kisses. So soft, delicate, passionate, so full of life.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Daddy's little girl...

Dear Miranda,

Three days wasn't enough. It will never be enough. You're always with me in my heart. You're always on my mind.

I went on a trip this past weekend, down to Atlanta. I went to the aquarium and saw all sorts of neat fish and wonderful creatures. I went for a walk in their beautiful park. I saw all the other families having fun; the mommies and daddies pushing their babies in their strollers. Daddy's heart hurts so bad.

I miss you.  I love you.  Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

You'll be my special girl...always.

The power of music....

Dear Sara,

I'm sitting here tonight, realizing it's been 8 months, to the day, since family and friends gathered together and said, "Good bye." Grief today is not nearly as potent as it was back then. Today it comes in small waves, memories lapping at the shore of my consciousness. I think about you and Miranda a lot, but no longer all day every day. I find that I don't cry as often as I used to; but, when I do, the hurt feels so fresh and powerful that it seems like I lost you yesterday.

I listen to music on the radio now, more so than I ever did when you were here. There are songs that reach out and touch me in ways that music never used to; a simple phrase from a song, a chorus repeated softly, inspired words written for others but sung directly to my heat. These tend to be the moments when those waves come crashing in. I don't fight them. Even though it hurts, it feels good to remember, to know that you're no farther away than my thoughts.

I have a playlist I recently created in iTunes called Crying Songs. I was listening to several this evening and wished that I could have sung this verse to you in those final seconds we had together. I don't know if you would have heard me or not, but it's what I wish I could have said if I'd known how bad things were.

"And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!"
Untitled Hymn - Chris Rice

Fly to Jesus, my angles!

I love you.  I miss you.  Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

8...

Dear Sara,

Will a time come when I stop counting the months since I last saw your smile? Heard your laugh? Kissed your lips? Held you close? We just passed 8...

The trees are changing color. The maple in front of our house has already changed and will lose it's leaves over the next couple of weeks. We are now entering our third season without you and Miranda. Spring...summer...winter to come soon enough...too soon.

It was sixteen years ago this month...you and I had noticed each other and started spending copious amounts of time hanging out together in the dormitory lounge. You asked me to Homecoming 16 years ago this week...it took me a long time to learn what a huge step that was for such a shy girl.

...and now it's 8 months. Eight months since death stole you from us. Eight months of wishing, wondering, learning...wishing.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad