I hope your birthday finds you cruising heaven’s open roads in a sweet 1965 Olds Starfire convertible.
I like to think that Terry is at the wheel, Roy is riding shotgun and you and Ken are holding down the back seat and that Ken will have you all in gut-punching, reeling laughter the entire ride.
I hope your heart is light, the wind against your face is sweet and soft and the sun is just right.
The ten years since you left has slid past just as those old “flying saucers” soared over the snow-covered dirt road before the plows got out our way.
We’d get to the bottom, grab the metal disc and run back up the hill for another go.
I guess what we do with time hasn’t changed much – only how we ride it.
I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss you.
You and I were never very good at spoken words – watching you taught me that silence and observation could be just as powerful as words and action.
I learned on my own that silence could be as damaging as words.
That sometimes the words have to be spoken.
For me, they must be written.
When I saw you in the Coyote Red Dog’s eyes that day I felt stakes drive through my boots and bury down deep into the hard-packed ground, planting me.
I hadn’t felt you in so long, Dad.
There you were, suddenly beside me in a breeze-filled field under a February sky of such wide and blue perfection only God could have painted it.
I felt a shift in my soul.
You never discouraged me from seeing and knowing through the animals.
You have to know that if I could have chosen my own father, I’d have picked you – the blue-collar mechanic with the punk grin and the quiet, watchful eyes.
I know that’s why you knew Liam was the perfect man to let me know that you are here.
Like you, he never judges.
Like you, he laughs quickly at himself.
Like you, he has a unique way of ignoring others.
Like you, the Red Dog is a man who lives to work.
Like you, he enjoys a sound nap and a good snack.
Like you, Liam holds a twinkle just at the edge of his eye.
And like you, when our eyes meet we share our thoughts in that special way void of words.
Boo came into my life for so many reasons.
I don’t even know the half of it yet.
Though I do know one purpose was for her to lead me down a path to a special soul that resides in a Red Dog who reconnected me to you.
Thank you for taking care of me, Dad – for coming back for me.
Enjoy your ride.
I love you.