It's hard to believe that it's been almost two years since you left us; I can honestly say that there hasn't been a single day that I haven't thought about you; while I don't hear your voice, I can hear your words in my heart.
So much has changed since you left. Cole and Christy have added another son to their family, so the Marchmont house now resonates with the sounds of a happy family of four, just as it did through the 1960s when you and Mom first brought us to the brand new house. I know you'd love what they've done to the place; while they've brightened it up and renovated, you'd instantly recognize it as your home, and you'd be proud of them. Cole has a new job that he loves, Christy is back in school and hoping to be a nurse, and life gets better for them with every passing day.
Jess and Adam are married now, and they have a son of their own on the way. Adam has a major job promotion on the horizon, and Jess is staying at home, waiting on the baby's arrival. She's just thrilled with the new and unexpected addition to their family, and she's writing almost daily on her own blog to preserve all her thoughts and memories of this time. It's wonderful, really; while Kim and I were enthralled by the many stories that you and Mom would tell us about the days before we were born and the days of our early childhood, Jess's son will be able to actually read his mother's words and know what she was feeling at the time. (I so wish I could have talked you and Mom into writing those stories down for us; while we still remember them, I would love the chance to relive those days in your own words one more time.)
Kimberly and Phil have been married for over a year now, and she's so very happy--I know that was what you always wanted for her, and you'd be thrilled to see how everything has come together in her life. I still worry for her--she works too much, too hard, and I wish that she could slow down a little bit. But she's doing great at her job with UTS, and there's so much less pressure on her than there was during her days at Randstad.
Susan and I are doing well; as I always tell Kim, my life is remarkably routine... and there's something good about that. I've come to enjoy routine, to appreciate the thousand little joys that accompany that familiarity.
I don't get to Rome very much any more; I tried to go back a few times after you left, but I always feel so sad once I leave there. I miss the things we always took for granted--visiting with you, talking politics, grabbing lunch or dinner, swapping stories, laughing at wonderful memories and reminiscing. We still go up to Kim's house for Christmas, but I haven't been back to Rome since the last holiday season. I still talk to Kim once or twice a week, and I try to stay in touch with Cole and Jess just to know what's going on, but everyone's so busy that we're not able to stay close the way we once did. I miss that closeness, and I miss them a lot sometimes, but I'm also happy that the lives they're building for themselves seem to be filled with joy and hope and promise for the future.
I'd give so much for a chance to talk with you one more time, Dad. Oh, I know that I talk to you every day, but I just wish I could hear your voice, hear your laugh again. I will always envy the fact that Kim, Cole, Christy, Jessica, and Adam got to share one joy-filled lunch with you before that stroke took you from us; I wish I could have been there. We never realize how important those little joys can be until they're taken from us.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. No one could have asked for a more loving, guiding, caring, generous, supportive father than you--