He would be 51 this year. Am I going to think about his age every August? Absolutely. He was my best friend. My biggest supporter. He wanted to give me the world, but he settled for a house. All I can do is write about him so that I can share stories of him to my kids, and let them know It wouldn’t be fair to their other grandfather if he was still around. He wouldn’t spoil them with things or money but he would be the funniest, silliest, most loving grandfather.
Children aren’t even on the horizon yet, but it saddens me that it’s just one more thing he’ll miss. Milestones in life feel a little less important without him. I don’t know if it’s getting easier, or if I’ve just accepted it. Sometimes I like to pretend that he’s still alive, that he’ll come find us when he’s ready, when he’s no longer in danger. I’ve learned from crime shows that unless you see the body yourself it’s not a guarantee they’re gone. And only two people in the world claimed they saw his body.
Just hoping I guess.
Jen's Journal 
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