For You

Oh Krissy, you really are gone aren't you? I still can't comprehend it. It seems like I'll turn the corner and you'll be there watching TV, or talking on the phone, but I have to stop looking for you and begin to get used to the fact I'm here on this earth without you now. I know you're still watching me, and with me every day, but it feels very lonely right now.

We didn't really get to speak much this last week but I hope you're listening now. I'm sure there is a pretty sweet broadband connection where you are so I'll continue to write with the hopes you'll be reading. I know it took every last bit of strength you had just to speak at the end, but I was so happy we were able to share a few last kisses, and that your last conversation was with me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to repeat what you said, but your words will forever be with me. Even now, they shine before my eyes, they resonate in my ears, and they echo in my heart. I'll never hear anything as bittersweet as the three sentences you spoke in those last moments, and I'll forever be thankful for them.

Watching you leave and ascend to Heaven was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was grateful that at the end you let me hold your hand until God took you away from your pain. I hope it was beautiful and that your Papa was waiting to usher you through the gates. I imagine the celebration and dancing is still carrying on up there. You always could cut a rug.

I've spent the last day with your mom, dad and Cesa making arrangements for the funeral. I think you'd be very happy with what we chose. Everything is beautiful and touched with class, just like you were in life. I picked out two plots for us at the cemetary, right next to a tree and with an amazing view of the mountains. It's a place the girls and I can come to see you and feel immediately at peace. Someday I will join you there, but I promise it won't be until I'm old and gray and have raised our girls to be wonderful, strong, amazing women like their mother.

Not a single instant of these past few days have been easy for me. I think I'm always just a picture, or a song, or a memory away from crying. But just as I have done these past ten years, everything I do is for you, and will continue to be. I promise to live out the rest of my life in a way that will make you proud of me. I'll even balance the checkbook just the way you used to. Our girls will remain the honest, sweet, loving people we have taught them to be and hopefully they won't find it too much of a burden to take care of their good ol' dad when he needs it.

I have to go now, I still have so many things to do before we have your funeral this week. I will write to you again sometime, not too often since I know you'll be watching anyway, but just so I can get the words out. You always knew I could type things better than I could say them anyway.

I love you,
Frank