Every time I wake up, if I open my eyes and look around the rooms in my home I can see us all here. I can see the floors torn apart, and a man with dimples and a grin so contagious it could become an epidemic smiling at me.

I can hear us laughing, something about a hippo, and I knew we had finally both become comfortable around one another. I found that we really were kindred spirits, and I had another Dad on this Earth. And he was fun, and enthusiastic, passionate and he was lovely.

I didn't know that those last days we spent working on the house together would be the last days.

I would have asked him what he meant when he said I didn't see myself clearly. If I would have known I would never know, I would have asked.

If I could see him for one last visit I would take pictures of him with Judah. Their dimples and laughter together and the love.

I would thank him for rocking my second son to sleep every weeknight in the hospital so I could be with my husband and first son. I would thank him for pushing my agenda.

I think he knew how much I was thankful for him, but I wish  I'd said it a few more times.

Our hearts are broken, a bit, and empty, a bit, knowing there will be no more Marty or Geri laughter encompassing a room.

The way they loved, the way they gave, and gave and gave. The way they praised God.

I am at a loss for words, most days.

But today, I will say one more thing.

The world has lost so much, but their legacy will continue on in their children and grandchildren.

I vow my heart to love deeply. To give of myself. I vow to praise God in this storm.

I promise not to forget.

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