Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Hearing Your Song - Ian with Guitars 2

Ian,

This recording Mom found on your phone. Many recordings were there, bits and pieces. A unintended gift from you that God allowed us to find. Most were works in progress. Then there is one where your creativity, sensitivity, ability and composition is fully present, revealed and unpacked.

You left us many songs - sung, played and those in our hearts. This one is the most complete recorded song showing how a kid raised on classic rock, who progressed to RHCP funk, on to screamo, then to power trio-indie-garage rock and finally lighting on indie folk and Americana. No, not much country there.

Within this composition, we hear artifacts of your journey. The mash-up in your brain arranged with your skill, expressed through your fingers. I remember how the song evolved over weeks and months. You would play us a bit in your room, a part in the common room. I remember you teaching me parts of the song. I see you playing me the completed piece. We both sit in your room, on your bed. You concentrate. I smile.

Hearing your song, first through my memory of you and the Takamine guitar, then with your hands on strings playing:

Bought in California
Moved to Texas
Transferred from father to son

Cedar, single-piece top
Jumbo cutaway
Koa back and sides

Rosewood fretboard
Elixir strings
Tuned to dropped D

Bright yet warm
Perched on your knee
Sitting on your bed

Fingers stretch
Mind flexes
Creativity expands

Melody escapes
Rhythm pulses
Harmony unfolds

Your song emerges:


(click play for video and you can size the screen)

Love you E,

Dad


Post production mixing: Matt Smith 6-String Ranch

Friday, April 14, 2017

Stop Me if You Heard This One Before: Songs of Grief and Hope

Ian,

We enjoyed the Smiths. I introduced them to Danny, Danny then to you and you back to me. Love the way music networks around, within our family.
 


Listening again, I recognized how the mixture of Morrissey's melancholy lyrics and joyful jangle of Johnny Mar's guitar illustrate the confusing mixture of emotions in maturing grief. This tension is odd, unnatural - but accepting the dissonance seems essential to continuing to live. This is a long, strange trip of ever changing emotional landscape - I still am hiking it. I wrote about the interplay between grief and hope over this past year - especially as your 4th anniversary of going Home approaches. Writing stuff helps me process feelings; Maybe it will help others too and provide support and understanding.

So, here are my songs: songs of the night and songs of the day (had to add in a little Phantom - you loved that!). Without further ado, strangeways, here we come!

One



There is nothing new here
A retooling of what has been said
Loss slows new memories
Clouds old ones

Therefore I must keep repeating
Say again what has been said
Go to the same places
Force my mind back

Walk with you again in the house
The driveway, the street
Watch the old TV shows and movies
Go to the haunts, play old games
Just stare at Bessy, pluck your bass
Listen to your songs
Remember your face

Should I be encyclopedic and focus on every detail
Or be empathetic and just feel
What if I loose a memory
What if one escapes
I fear loosing you again
But there is power in memory
To discover something new
A detail, an experience, a word
It is like seeing you again in my mind
Joy floods, conversations renew
Grief mitigated in memory
But for a minute -
But I will take that!

Two



I hear music in our house today
The thumping and popping on a bass
The strumming and picking of a guitar
The sampling and sounding of tunes

I hear voices in our house today
The sharing and telling of stories
The debating and pressing of opinions
The laughter and giggling of family

I hear play outside our home today
The dribbling and leaping with a ball
The running and catching of the disc
The pressing and pushing of the weights

I hear silence in our home today
The ringing and singing slowly stops
The talking and texting tappers away
The bouncing and bounding becomes still

Space unoccupied
Energy trapped in inaction
Pause, peculiar quiet
Loneliness and yearning

I feel hope surging once again
A promise made, a promise kept
A place missing, reunion coming
A home empty, a mansion full


Three
Music man moves through the house
Living and dining room entertainment
Bessy blends notes with effortless slide
Fretless resonance through rounded strings

A Bugera booming with Big Muff fuzz
Hefty Trace Elliots transport and elevate
Tele snaps and twangs in spite of distortion
The Tak discovers a dropped D melody

Bass and guitar groove and blend together
Dancing in intertwined melody
Amplified strings as surrogate voices
United in sound, rhythm and heart

Such was our music, such was our song


Four


Four years

126,230,400 seconds
     2,103,840 minutes
          35,064 hours
               1461 days
                    48 months
                         4 years

How is it possible?
Answer my text, take my call
Just come home
Silence just silence
Worst fear realized

Deep, lifelong wound
Joint out of socket
Straining to breath
Just to survive
Realize and rationalize
Hope to believe, believe to hope
Take trembling steps
Learning to walk again
Find a sort of balance
With a lifelong limp

Time itself is hard
Everything reminds me of you
Time we spent together
What we missed
Time is not enough


















 19 years,
     231 months
          1007 weeks
               7053 days
          169,272 hours
     10,156,320 minutes
609,379,200 seconds

Don't get me started about
Awaiting your arrival
Cuddling as a baby
Legos as a child
School, pretend, action figure
Xbox, Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh
School, projects, cars and girls
Too much to remember
But hungrily grasp at each frame

Hanging out at home
Riding together in a car
Playing in the yard
Grabbing Chick-fil-A
Working out
Jamming on guitars
Singing at church
Playing in a band
Discussing life's mysteries
Finding truth
Laughing
Falling asleep watching a movie
Running in the rain

A song, lyric, muscle roller, trip to Sam's, a chord
Shakes me from balance and I fall again
Feel the break, the rip and the tear
I limp more obviously
The wound bleeds

Hope cannot be found here
Amid dirt and flesh
Too weak, too fragile,
All starts but to end
Hope springs not from change, adaptation
Nor from gradually getting used to your absence
All is still interrupted
The wound reopens

Hope springs beyond these stars
Beyond myself
Through wood and nails
A folded cloth
A herald's song
Conviction from the bones

I am Jacob
I walk with a limp
Yet I know His Name
I am graced by His blessing
I will meet you again
You and He both
Where end meets beginning





Love you E,


Dad

Sunday, April 9, 2017

"All you can thrash" - our life with pizza


Pizza, the essential food group of youth, I have missed. Ian your love for pizza started early. Mom and I promoted it in Maryland as we loved to eat at Armand's after church. These thick offerings were truly pizza pie -1/2 inch thick goodness of sauce, abundant toppings and mounds of cheese. Though you were young, the blend of bread, meat, stringy cheese and flavorful sauce was a magnet. We do not remember the place's name, but up from our apartment was a pizza place Danny liked. Momma Jean and Poppa Gene when visiting walked you guys there - by hand and stroller - to fulfill the Pogue family's desire for pizza.




In California we continued to enjoy pizza together. Often Digiorno pizza at home, or a bring your own topping pizza night. We would roll out the dough or use pre- made and everyone brought their favorite - bacon seemed to often be on your list. After cooking, we would sit around the table, talk, tell stories, share "highs" and "lows" of the week, and laugh.  

It first was about quarters and video games then pizza. When we first arrived in CA, pizza meant games - so requests to me, Mom, Poppa Gene, anyone for quarters, boosts to see the screens and help. Soon the taste of pizza, the allure of pepperoni and the joy of eating began to moderate games and raise the food value. In California, pizza was mostly about bulk. At Renaissance Pizza yours, Danny's or Caylea's sports teams would crowd for pizza after games, receiving trophies. Teams required mass quantities.


With the play room and pool, armies of youth were always at our house. Pizza was the easy way to please the hoards. Abundant, tasty hot or cold, it was the fuel behind so may weekend or Summer or spontaneous parties. But we learned to mix it up a bit. We all fell in love with grilled, fresh asparagus. At your going away to Texas swim party, pizza flowed, as did a huge plate of asparagus- boys (I remember Kevin in particular) grabbing some sticks as the headed out to the pool.


Texas pizza -we continued bulk pizza nights, Papa John's, the Hut, and others. How could we afford to feed a growing family with visiting populations of guys and girls? On 6th Street we did Hoek's Death Metal Pizza and HomeSlice on South Congress (especially during and after tattoo sessions with Danny). I remember doing a Longhorn game with Alfred your youth leader. The line out of the parking garage was - well long. So we just walked down to 6th Street and hung out and ate pizza from Roppolo's before heading back to the car. Another memory was the metal competition at Red 7 - we came with your gear, unloaded, got our stamps and of course you were hungry!! We grabbed pizza at Hoboken Pies before coming back so you could jam with the Messinas and others.




But, in Texas you discovered "all you can thrash" pizza at Double Dave's. It was there I could tell you of the feasting feats of "Big Red" Don , Clayton and Chris at Texas A&M. Going to lunch, ordering all you can eat, eating vast amounts of pizza, then packing up pepperoni roles in Eppendorf tube bags from the lab for eats later in the week. Thus the experience was deemed, "all you can thrash!"


We started going to Double Dave's when Mom taught at ACC Northridge. It was nearby and an easy mark for lunch when we visited her on campus. A store full of neon beer signs, longhorn paraphernalia and old road signs, held the delights of pizza and plenty of it. You could punish an all you can eat bar. Multiple trips, variety of pizza and dessert pizza. Don't forget the soda. Not healthy, but good.



Mangia and another place near Anderson High were frequented, but Double Dave's was our pizza out place. We could watch basketball games, discuss the week's activities, or explore weekend plans - it was all talk and grubbing. Your giggle, the little spewing of food or drink as you laughed - always remember.

We found Double Dave's in College Station during our visits to check out the school. Mom and Caylea tolerated it. You and I were home. That place on the corner of George Bush and Texas was our favorite haunt each time I visited. We would do TexMex or Chicken Strips, but almost always take in a Double Dave's all you could thrash. You know, we never take pictures of the mundane nor do we record those normal conversations. I have a text from you taunting me about your time at Double Dave's without me. I love looking back at our text conversations. I wish I had pictures of us or recordings as we ate together! I miss all the stories we shared, every giggle coming from you, each talk we had - I miss you.


You went Home on a Friday the 19th, and your friends had your name called at Muster that Sunday the 21st. Yes the 'officially' recognized class years were loud, but your name was greeted with a "Here" that resonated from the upper deck and up from the floor. Rivaled them all. 

As Muster ended, 80-100 classmates flooded down to greet Mom's sisters and family, my family, friends from Austin and our broken family of Austin Pogue's. What love did they share! What funny stories did they tell! We had cleaned your dorm room out hours before - the hardest thing I may ever do in my life - and many friends of yours wanted something, a t-shirt or desk or study relic to remember you by. One friend carried your red stapler (yes Office Space) to Muster with him and to the floor. Your memory and inspiration filled our minds.



How do you follow that? Only one answer - a Double Dave's "all you can thrash" meal. 80+ people landed on our Double Dave's, tens of pizzas were ordered. Everyone ate, told stories, remembered you and cried - yes there were lots of tears. Mom wore your favorite t-shirt - a San Francisco 49er shirt, the one-fish, two-fish, red fish, blue fish pajama pants you reluctantly let me buy you at Target (turned out to be your fav) and favorite beanie you wore to control your curly locks as you grew them out to donate to Locks of Love. Those clothing items went to rest with you and were spread that next weekend around your favorite Austin places: Zilker Park and Rock Island (on a frisbee at times!) and Mount Bonnell, where you carried Seraina to ask her to prom.


We went back to that Double Dave's twice more with your friends for an "all you can thrash" meal, to hear new stories of you and catch up with their lives.











I still remember the stories of pond hopping, Valentine gifts, lifting and fitness that emerged as we ate the world's least healthy meal. But that was so you - a portrait of health, strongest kid I had ever known, full of creativity and joy - now not with us, doomed by sleeplessness, unable to conquer narcolepsy by a health routine, a quiet house and remembered with a tear. Pizza - so good, yet so not.











Every day I remember you with such joy and such sadness. The joy and thankfulness of each moment we spent together coupled with the loss, the sadness and anger that those moments are gone. I weep.








I returned to Double Dave's to "thrash" again today. It is never the same. You are not there with me. Our family committed to not end things as with a period "." amid loss and addiction, but continue as with a semicolon ";".
My tattoo - חֶסֶד; - reminds me that chesed - the covenant, steadfast loving kindness - of our God never ceases. It is truly an "all you can thrash" love that extends beyond failure, sin, loss and time to embrace us where we are and take us to where we will be reunited again forever. I must preach the good news to myself daily and continue in His love.

Love you E

Saturday, December 10, 2016

So This Is Christmas ...


Ian,

You have defined our Christmas’ since you were born – three days after Christmas in 1993. That first Christmas was full of anticipation. Our family had grown rapidly in the past two and half years. We became three in 1991 when Mom and I got married – Danny was the immediate bonus! Caylea came in August before our second Christmas together. Indeed, Mom had surprised me with the news by giving me a “Baby’s First Christmas” Precious Memories figurine while we lived in College Station. She was born in Shady Grove Hospital – just like you would be. That Christmas Advent remembered the coming of our Savior, but also the up-coming of you! You did not waste much time and were born early in the morning on the 28th of December that 1993. Funny – you were number three, but you really focused our traditions around the holidays as we had to address the challenge of having your child’s bday juxtaposed to the biggest holiday of the year. Thus, the tradition of schedule emerged. The tree went up right after Thanksgiving and down the day after Christmas. Celebrate Jesus’ birthday, then focus on yours.


Soon after the Thanksgiving turkey was cleaned up – the Christmas decorations emerged from the closet or attic and our house became transformed into a winter wonderland. I still remember the enthusiasm, well, less than joy, that filled you, Caylea and Danny, to help me pull the decorations down from the attic. In the later years, you were buff and strong. My role was to sort, and “drop” the boxes to you on the ladder and you carried them to the other kids to take in the house. I still hear you saying “Dad, don’t drop the box on me like that!” 
As we brought in the decorations, the Christmas music would play, starting with Garth Brooks, then Rebecca St. James, John Michael Talbot and then a whole collection of holiday CD’s. Mom loved Christmas music. We would put up the tree. Remember our first tree – Momma Jean and Poppa Gene’s (MJ&PG) tree with the assemble by colors branches? Yes, I was reminded every year we used it that the colors were rubbed off so many limbs. Limbs were bent from Johnny the cat sleeping in the tree, and each branch had to be fluffed. The last was not our favorite part! We would play “The Grinch Stole Christmas” movie with Jim Carey to keep the spirit light as we struggled with our tree. We tried real trees – found out Mom was allergic! Then we bought a new tree – that was more of the pop-up kind. But still required fluffing. Bummer! I remember the year Taylor joined us in the fun - more limbs to go around and more hands to fluff! yay!! It was a good year in Vacaville.

 The tree lights were always – my least favorite part. ALWAYS – something would not work. We would have to work as a team to arrange new light strings up the trees, around branches – to give a balanced and bright look. Mom would also string blue lights on the ficus and other trees (mostly fake) in the house. 

You and Caylea would help me put up lights in the yard. We used the “deer” – which always needed new lighting – and used blue lights to create a stream for them to stand near under our big live oak tree out front. The Christmas flamingo was also a common visitor to our porch. The most important outside was the red light cross. We used two coat holders Poppe had given us to form a cross. We then wrapped it with red lights and hung this near the front door.  We also use the Merry Christmas sign Mom picked up in CA with the mittens, pants, coat and gloves of Santa hanging. Yes, the house was “lit” up inside and out.

The process of putting up the tree, stringing lights, and ornaments was characterized by our traditional “Men without shirts” celebration. Caylea would wear a sports bra, but Danny, you and I would boldly go shirtless in the winter to put up the lights and dazzle all the women with our sexiness. We collected and still display all the hand-made ornaments you, Caylea and Danny would make at school and church. They remind us of so many happy memories and makes us thankful, very thankful for each of our kids.
A big tradition was to get annual ornaments – each representing a special time in the year. Basketballs, cars, Aggie helmet/Reveille were all examples of ornaments your chose. Each tells a story from your life. I guess I should write a blog detailing each ornament's story - this would tell us so much about you and how you saw your years. Often, they were silly – Santa in a car that played a song, a Tie Fighter, Spiderman – represented your interests and your light-hearted approach to life. We would poise and hang each up with the requisite pictures. Yes, no one loved taking pictures. So glad we did.



Nutcrackers...you had a thing for nutcrackers. It started very early. You found you loved one I got as a gift - always took it out, kept it out of the Christmas decorations to play with it. Then we started getting you nutcrackers. You picked out a SF Forty-Niner Christmas Ornament nutcracker. You found a bass playing nutcracker with long black hair. You displayed them all year long. What once was a year long wait to play with the nutcrackers for a month became something we all embraced and enjoyed sharing with you. We still have a big tin nutcracker in our entrance way. He reminds us of you and the joy nutcrackers brought to our home.


We would finish up with a selection of traditional ornaments – nativity scenes we had been given or purchased were in each room. They were used to teach you the story of our Savior. Then there was the Advent calendar with the 25 story books MJ&PG gave us. Each day, the three of your would grab the correctly dated book corresponding to the day in December and we would read about the story of Jesus together before bed. You were full of questions – asking why the innkeeper could be so cold to not let Mary and Joseph stay, what song did the angels sing, what animals were in the stall near the manger – and others. Setting up the house gave us a rhythm of joy, sounds of praise, togetherness and joint purpose and constant reminders of the coming King.

So many stories to remember about Christmas – lots to tell; will pick just a few. The Christmas after we moved to CA, we shared the holidays with our other family the Mundells for the first time. Time with them – Thanksgiving, swimming, Easters, Summer trips, Christmas – still is a tradition. 

I got the brilliant idea one of our first Christmases in CA to build a manger and “drive home the Christmas story” to my kids. Poppa Gene helped me build the manger out of spare lumber. It was crude – I am not an engineer or a builder – and it barely stood up. But, certainly all you kids with Kurt and Kelsi were fascinated about what we were going to do with it. Well, we put it on the front porch and Caylea and you gave your blankets and brought a baby to lay there. We put it together – it looked great! Then baby Jesus went missing? He was not in his manger! Well, you wanted to be with Baby Jesus and picked him up and carried him around loving him. You kept him safe and brought him back to the manger and tucked him in bed. That proved to be a model for your life – you embracing Jesus, Jesus embracing you – protecting you and bringing you Home safely.




We spent many Christmases with family. PopE and Mawmaw, Granny and Papa, Shelley, Kurt and the kids, Khristina, Mandi and kids, Megan and Emma. Times on the farm, times at Shelly and Kurt’s – you were always quick to love your family, take care of your cousins, play with them and get a kick out of their joy as they opened their gifts. The most common place we went for Christmas was MJ&PG’s to spend the holidays with them and the Darlands. 



The timing was always difficult as you kids got older. Jobs, especially Starbucks, kept us limited on times to be gone. PG always wanted his family home for Christmas – but that was not always possible. We would all circle up around the living room and one or two of your kids would be Santa. You would deliver the gifts to all of us. Then the unwrapping began – one at a time, around the circle. We had to limit the numbers of gifts because the time would be soooo long. But we would enjoy everyone’s generosity, joke and laugh and tell stories as we opened gifts. You were always entertaining with how you opened the gifts, wore the bows, and made your cousins Will and Kenedy laugh and laugh. One year, we brought the Austin tradition of decorating the trees on Hwy 360 to Wichita Falls and decorated a tree in front of the Sonic on Southwest Parkway. Everyone could not believe we were doing this in Wichita Falls – but we did. Will and Kenedy were shocked, then excited, and we all decorated the tree and laughed and laughed together.

We often would carol –  you would sing and participate in school and church Christmas specials - always singing with no worry about how it may sound. 


I remember our Bible study took the Japanese teachers around our neighborhood in Austin one year. You came with us – singing with them. The neighbors and the teachers learned about the Christmas story anew as we taught them songs on the spot – before the front door opened. 

We also sang carols in CA with Becky and her family – especially her grandmother. Cutting up and joking with her family was awesome. The big caroling event was Christmas Eve services where we would dress up, meet our friends and remember the coming of Jesus. You came to these services in Maryland, California and Texas. The most unique was at the Austin Stone where we sang with Todd Agnew and other worship leaders at the top of our lungs and they recorded songs for the Stone’s Christmas CD. I still remember your eyes shut, voice lifted up, hands extended as we praised our soon returning King.


We loved to take people to 37-1/2 Street in Austin off Guadalupe. The huge foil T-Rex, the stuffed animal petting zoo, the sock monkey nativity scene, the lights thrown here and there and the US monopoly set after Obama was elected – all highlights of 7 years of visits. It was odd, off-beat, yes, weird. We took your friends, Bible Study folks, family. Some would get it. Some were offended. So loved it. We loved walking, laughing at the quirky humor and unique displays. We would ask Mom if we could try to start this on Tributary Ridge. Strangely, we never got the green light.


Gifts – well Christmas ultimately has a lot of “gifts.” With a birthday so near Christmas, the “negotiation” process for combo – Christmas and bday – gifts started in CA. The first was your Haro bike I think. 
Then we had to often set limits to define some gifts for Christmas and others for your birthday. We had the tradition of opening up one gift on Christmas Eve – well, sometimes the gifts from the Mundells as well (since we often spent Christmas Eve with them) – and then “Santa” gift on Christmas morning as well as the rest of the gifts from your siblings and parents. 

You and your brother and sister often were sooo jazzed you could barely sleep. Caylea was always up early and learned quickly to stay on her side of the house to wait for Mom and I to come out, video tape or take pictures of the big “unveiling!!!” She would always grab you, and you were quick to join. We would hear giggling, talking in hushed voices in the hallway or one of your rooms. Getting Danny up – well that was more challenging. He was a more accomplished sleeper than you were! 

But sometimes - you all were so tired waiting for Christmas - you would sleep in!!



But in your PJ’s, wrapped up in bedspreads or blankets, we would gather in front of the fire near the tree to open gifts. Like at MJ&PG’s, one of you would be Santa and distribute the gifts and we would open one at a time, talking, laughing, telling stories, giving snarky comments all the while. 

We would do this in person, in Maryland, California or Texas or as we did in 2012 – virtually on Facetime to include family, friends always. We would share Christmas in calls, texts, and Christmas Eve’s gifts as we sought to beat PG to the punch. 




Every year almost you would want a Guinness Book of World Records and then would bug us for days with the grossest or oddest stories you could find. You would want books and stories about basketball, sports. You would be so creative and buy such cool gifts for us. I still have my signed "Accidental Evolution of Rock and Roll" book, the guitar tuner, the Junips Fields CD and others. I know Mom, Caylea, Ian and everyone also has a favorite gift from you. Each gift reflected their uniqueness and fitted them so well. You were sensitive, aware, and generous to a fault.
 
The most memorable Christmas gift we gave you was your Music Man bass. During weekends and also during the Christmas break, we would visit guitar shops and look at instruments. PG would go with us – he would beam as you would play and we would listen. Hear him tell about one of these visits:
“Ian would love to go to guitar stores to see basses and amplifiers. He could spend hours and hours playing one after another. Sometimes with earpieces, others with the amps. He could just spend the day doing this. I tried hard to be patient as he tried out different amplifiers, guitars, etc. He never tried to buy one, but really tried to play them. When he was ready to buy a guitar, or part of a guitar, or really anything – when his mind was set on something – he could not stop focusing on it, asking about it, or trying to go to the store until it is done.”
During one of these trips, we found this dark blue Music Man bass, two humbuckers, with blue pearloid pick guard, on sale. You WANTED IT!!! The negotiation for a combo gift began again. Mom and I agreed to get if for you. We wrapped it in your old Squire bass box – but you were not fooled. You knew it was not a Squire. You were so happy you cried – and then were off to play and play on it the rest of the day. 


After Christmas one day – probably on your birthday or the day after – a year or two before, you and Mom went to Heart of Texas Music on South Lamar – yes the place Stevie Ray Vaughn bought the SRV-1 Strat from Ray – and Ray sold you “The Nuke” by Bugera and the 4X10 Trace Elliot cabinet. That set up would blow windows out of a house with a 1,000 Watts of sound. The Christmas after your bass, we got you the 1X15 Trace Elliot cabinet – still plenty loud, but instead of 80-100 lbs – it was just 40 or so. 
Got to admit it, loved shopping for music stuff for and with you. It was the highlight of a week, a month or year. I miss it every time I step into a music store now. 

No one to share songs with, the joy of discovery with, the giggles with and can hear my son only in my memories popping and slapping like no one else in the store. I miss that joy.


As I shop for this Christmas, every time I see Jack Skellington or the Nightmare Before Christmas, I remember how you loved it, the songs, the stories, the animation. I remember my Skellington mask you used to wear with friends, your cat, watching movies with you as you were curled up on the floor in the Pogue Common Room watching the movie, talking always through it, then growing quiet, then falling asleep in the middle of it. We would often go shopping for PJ’s at this time at Target – for Christmas, or just because it would be cozy. It was during one of these times in 2012 we saw the One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish PJs that were your favorites in College Station. I had to convince you to let me buy them for you – an odd thing! But we got them, you wore them constantly, and we gave them to you again in the end. 

We enjoyed taking pictures by the tree - with pets, in costume - and of our feet. Pictures were never the favorite activity. Everyone was always moving soooo quickly. Lots to do - but when the pictures worked - they were memorable!



As I walk through the house, I miss seeing you and Caylea and Danny sleeping together, laying and laughing together, being silly together as three, as it should be. I miss your laugh; I miss your Mom’s joy and smile; I miss the enthusiasm to blow your mind with Christmas gifts; I miss your joyous giving to homeless, addicts, the needy during this and other times; I miss singing with you in church; I miss playing the “12 Days of Christmas” in the style of Reliant K at KIDS at the Stone; I miss shooting baskets with you after opening gifts; I miss you as a baby, as a boy, a young man, as a man. I just flat miss you!!


Christmas…I have struggled to approach the holidays – both as a season, but also in the feelings and struggles. We have a tree - just for you - where we put new ornaments each year: one to remember you - the annual Hallmark ornament, and one that we think that you would choose. This year it is Hulk in the Ragnarok outfit. Your beefy-ness, goofy-ness and athletic-ness makes the Hulk the perfect ornament. Of course, you did not have the outburst of anger, green coloring or shrinkage to a micro-man. You kinda just stayed hulk-ish.
There are lifetimes of stories still to tell, but these are a start; these remind me of you. It is nearly Christmas again, the fifth one without you. Of the most valuable things I have - the bag with the card, To: Dad From: Ian in your handwriting ranks near the top. Just seeing this again makes Christmas less hard and the hope of reunion just that much stronger. 


I love you very much. Till we celebrate Advent again when our Savior makes all things new. 

Love you E, Dad