A re-post. Forgive my lack of originality.

This is a re-post from last October. Today I've been thinking of Mike and our entire family's sorta messed up issues all across the board. I really do wonder how things would be now if he were here. But I think we all know how he would want them to be, and there's no reason not to let our lives and relationships be something that he could be proud of - not embarrassed by. And we're getting it right in some ways.

I miss him. Andrew misses him. But we'll see him again in the not-to-distant future. I don't want to feel like I did on that day that I hugged Andrew at the airport and couldn't look him in the eye afterward. Head high, no shame, smile on face, arms open wide.

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Years and years ago you told me that if Andrew didn't marry me, you'd adopt me into the family anyhow. I guess you must have loved me as much as I loved you. Family always was important to you. You showed us that every time we saw you. I remember one time you went to the fridge and got a whole heap of string cheese and brought it to your chair just inside the front door, and when one of the grandkids came inside, you would give them one, without saying anything. A few kids later, they were all catching on - Grandpa has snacks! Everyone who hadn't gotten one yet came running into the house to collect their treasure from you. It was simple, like your love for them. Just plain, simple, without strings love.

The September day that I came to your house to ride to the airport with you to pick up Andrew from his mission, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. You could tell I was on the verge of needing a big dose of Ritalin, and you calmed me down- and then you made sure that I knew I was not supposed to hug Andrew until he had been released. Ah. Yes. Got it. So when Andrew's plane landed and he finally emerged, I thought I would just have to live with a smile and a handshake. Everyone got a hug but me, and then someone said, "Just hug him!" I didn't need to be told twice, but I also couldn't look at you when I did it. I was afraid of receiving a rebuke. But you didn't get upset. You waited until we were walking back to the car and you said to Andrew, "Don't look now, but Bethany grew a nice booty for you." I was mortified, and we were even!

One day not too long after that, I had to be the one to tell Andrew that you had had a stroke. It was a hard day. But harder than that was going to visit you in the hospital and holding my grown husband afterward in the parking lot as he sobbed huge tears for you. He shook in my arms and wept at the thought of losing you. I think that until that day he thought you were too strong to die. You had never stopped being his invincible super hero. It turns out you weren't invincible, but you're still his hero. He misses you, and I know that he thinks of you every time he hugs his own children. He wants to be the kind of Dad that you were.

So much has happened since you left. I wonder today how things might have been different if you had been able to stay. Your family has struggled without your sensible leadership, your comforting guidance and your honesty. I wish we could all just sit with you one more time and have you set us all straight. I don't know for sure, but I imagine that you've been watching us, and mingled with the joy of some of our accomplishments and blessings, you've had disappointments too. I'm sure that, had you been here through some of the rockier times in all our lives, you could have kept us all together with a little more love and all of your smarts. I think we all still needed you.

The last time I saw you was when my Ethan Baby was just three days old, and you had come to our house after Dallin and Alex's baptisms to meet him. It's true, on the outside you looked like you felt terrible, but you were holding your tiny grandson, and you were radiant. I am sad for all my kids who won't get to know you or hug you in this life, and I'm sad for the memories that are fading. But I'm glad for the strength you were to me while we had you. I'm glad for the example you were, for who you were. And I'm glad that you were part of my life here.

Tomorrow would have been your birthday, and so I will honor you by giving each of my kids a hug from you, and by treating my family like you would if you were here.