Peace and love to you all.

Today was my (Aaron) 36th birthday. It was the first birthday that any of us have had without Dad around and it was strange. Some of the traditions and things that we usually would do just weren't in place and I don't know that they will be again.

However, it was a genuinely good day. We went out to lunch to a place here in town called Crave and it was delicious. We walked around the mall a little, ran a few errands, then came back and spent the day relaxing. For dinner, we cooked a couple beautiful steaks, sat the table, ate, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. It was a day without pressure. A day without having to run around and do this or that. 

It was...nice. 

I'll be honest and say that it has been rare since March that any of us have had an unequivocally good day and even rarer that it's we've had one together. 

I still miss him. We all do. There were some tears when looking at pictures or finding notes left around, but there was a lot of laughter as well. Going out, having a nice meal, wandering the mall, and all of that was freeing in a way that is hard to describe for anyone who hasn't been there. 

It was a day of healing, even just a little bit, and for a birthday, I could not ask for more.

May you have days of healing and joy ahead of you. 

Thanks be to God. 

Peace and love to you all.

It's been six months.

Six months since the worst morning of our lives.
Six months since we said our goodbyes and let you go with God.
Six months since our family quartet officially became a trio. 
Six months since we had to learn how to live on our own, without your presence.
Six months of open water, struggling to stay afloat.
Six months of emptiness in the corners that once were filled with laughter and advice and maddening comments while watching TV. 
Six months of doubt and worry for the future.
Six months of puzzles being packed away, never to be touched again.
Six months of sitting out on the patio with an empty seat across from us.
Six months of stepping into the office and, for a second, wondering if you were out and about and running errands.
Six months of wondering what to do next and how we'll go on.
Six months of going on anyway.
Six months of missing you. 

It's been a half a year already and it feels both like forever and just yesterday.

The holidays will come and they will hurt and we will keep doing our best to live our lives, even though they aren't going to be whole ever again.

It's been six months, Dad, and we miss you more every day.

​Thanks be to God.