Dear Tess, It’s Sam here

 Dear Tess,

 

It’s Sam here, your favorite son-in-law, as you always referred to me and reminded me every time we were together.  Being your only son-in-law, I always loved the humor in this, and it’s a title I carry with tremendous pride.  Your sense of humor always cracked me up.  Like the times you’d motion to me to come over to you while you were looking through family photos, with this mischievous look in your eye, like you were about to share a secret that no one else could know:  “Sam, you know I think you’re cute, but that little brother of yours is really something else!”  

 

What a gift to have had you in my life and to have been loved by you.  The sadness in thinking about future days without you in them is immense.  The sadness I feel for Pete losing his wife of 46 years and my concern for the quiet he is facing, of Lauren losing her mom that she could always call in times of desperation, for Barry losing his little sister, for all of our unique sense of loss.  The regret for having not spent more time together.  It’s so hard.  But as light serves to cast out darkness, so shall our despair yield to the joy of having you in our lives.  Sadness yielding to pure adoration of the beauty of your soul.

 

You truly were a light everywhere you went.  I don’t know if you ever realized the extent of this truth.  Perhaps you were too humble to even have the ability.  I loved how you never met a stranger.  You always made everyone feel special – it was the endearing look in your eye, the extra squeeze of your hugs, the comforting rub on the back, your genuine interest in others.  Your always asking how my family was doing, reminding me how sweet my parents are and how much they love their boys, your always asking about Mike and Julie.  You giving Lauren a stern “Lauren you better be nice to that boy” (talking about me).  You were always interested in others, in an honest way that is uncommon these days.  You would always have a story to tell about the bagger at the grocery store, where he’s from and what he’s studying in school and the fact that he has a girlfriend.  The mark you left on people – they all remember that cute little lady that talked to them that day at the store, at the park, at the restaurant.  That time on the airplane you told Charles Barkely “oh I just loooove you”, to which he replied “I love you too!”.  These memories bring me such joy.   

 

Observing your elation in the simplest things has really had an impact on me.  Hearing the tone of excitement in your voice as you told us how beautiful Yellowstone was, how exciting it was to be in the Outer Banks, how proud you were to show me your new red Marmot jacket, knowing how I’m into those outdoorsy things.  How supremely proud you were of your daughter and told everyone about her, whether they asked or not.  The deep and unending love for your husband, even if he drove you a little crazy.  Your strength through unimaginable tragedy.  

 

I will miss your texts to ask about how I think Ricky Fowler is going to do in the golf tournament this weekend.  I will miss you calling me to vent about how the Panthers blew yet another 4th quarter lead.  I will miss hearing the anticipation in Nolan and Wesley’s voice when they asked “is grandma Tess coming???”.  You were always the life of the party and the center of eveyone’s attention.  Our Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings every year are moments that I will cherish forever.  You crackingjokes and being a smart elec.  What an overwhelming gift it is to have been loved and have had you in our lives in such a big way.  You were truly a gift to me, to our family, to this world.  And you continue to be a gift in your presence and our memories, and those will live forever.         

 

As I’m concluding this on my back porch, as the sun is rising and the songbirds are distractingly loud, I wonder to myself, is that you singing?  It feels like it.  How desperate of me.  Yet, as this childish dream occurs to me, I also can’t deny your warm, comforting presence.  Not a denial of your being gone, but an awareness of your presence in my spirit.  The way God reveals himself in nature, when I’m in awe of a raging waterfall, or the soothing sound of a refreshing rain shower, or the vistas from the parkway as the sun sets over the Pisgah range, or our immense smallness in this vast universe – so big, so far away, too hard to comprehend, yet so connected.  Or the cheer of the songbird’s chorus stretching across a spring morning as far as the ear can hear.   

 

And you are out there singing.  

You are here, singing.  

 

I love you Tess.

 

Your favorite son-in-law, 

 

Sam