1,095 Days.
Some days it seems so much shorter, and some days it seems so much longer.
His middle name was Richard.
His hair was dark.
His eyes were hazel.
His skin was golden.
He was born on the East coast and moved to Missouri when he was about 6 years old.
He used to tell a story of when he rode his bike in their neighborhood.
Once he was even hit by a passing car.
He just hopped right back up and went on.
His first day of first grade ended with him going home upset.
A classmate made fun of his buzzed haircut all day long.
His second day of first grade began with a punch to that classmate's mouth.
His dad told him he better stop that bully, or he’d get a whippin’ when he got home.
He stopped the bully.
One time when as a young boy he chose the less than acceptable vernacular.
His mom decided to wash his mouth out with soap.
He bit the end of the soap off.
He cussed often.
The soap incident did not deter him.
When he was just 17, he enlisted.
He spent two years in the Marine Corps, exploring places like Hawaii and Taiwan.
But never anywhere for very long.
He taught our son some of the “clean” cadences.
His momma tried to protect him, and to teach him
to forgive,
to love gently,
to be patient.
Not just with others, but also with himself.
He never could.
He spoke in a graveled voice that stole my soul with the first, "Hey, this is Mike Hollis, how are you?"
His hands were calloused, scarred, and bruised.
His smile was perfect and his teeth were crooked.
His walk showed a commanding gait.
He knew where he was going and what he was doing with every step.
He couldn't dance to save his life, but he sure swept me around our kitchen floor several times.
His laugh was contagious and carried notes of happiness with every ounce of it.
He was up for anything, as long as it was his idea.
He worked tirelessly and endlessly to build a dream he hoped he would see carried through.
His heart was tender.
His love was pure and endless.
His temper was wild.
His sorrows ran deep.
He was so proud of his two sons.
He saw a future with them working together.
Growing together.
Raising their children, our grandchildren, on this farm.
Happily married, visiting mom and dad for dinners in this house.
He did not get to live out his dream.
He did not get to grow old.
He did not get to grow old with me.
He did not get to watch his sons grow into men.
To see them graduate.
To see them become husbands.
To see them welcome their babies into the world.
He did not get to become a grandpa.
He did not get to say he was sorry.
He did not get to forgive.
Others.
Or himself.
But what he did do was make an impact on all those he encountered.
He left his mark on this world.
On this farm.
On his sons' hearts.
On his wife's heart.
Three years.
1,095 Days.
Some days it seems so much shorter, and some days it seems so much longer.
His middle name was Richard.
His hair was dark.
His eyes were hazel.
His skin was golden.
So, I say his name.
Over and over again.
I say his name.
Baby,
I hope that Heaven is the most beautiful place we always imagined it to be. I hope that the sun warms your skin and that your laughter is endless. I hope that you smile all day long and rest in the glow of those you love.
We are making it down here. It is a struggle some days, but others bring new happiness. Happiness we never expected to feel again. Hope. Hope we never dreamed could form itself within our broken hearts and souls. But happiness and hope come anyway. They come in spite of the scars.
I love you more than words can ever say. I will love you for the rest of my life.
I am so lucky, blessed, grateful, all the words you want to call it, to have been loved by you.
Loved by you for the rest of your life.
I wasn't your first love. I wasn't your first chance.
But I was your last. And that is more than enough.
To know that you left this world loving me is more than enough.
I know that you would have stayed home with us that day, had you known how it would have turned out.
But, none of us know. We only know what we have in the here and now.
I had you.
And now I have our son.
A part of you.
The best parts of you.
Thank you for loving me, Michael Richard.
Thank you for giving me all of you. The best of you. The last of you.
Rest well, my love.
Until I see you again, I'll be loving you.
NFAxI...
Your Wife
