Dear Frank, Today is yet another anniversary of living without you and remembering what used to be. It seems impossible that it’s been 5 years since you suddenly died in 2018. That’s 60 months, 1800 days, 43,200 hours, 2,592,000 minutes, and 155,520,000 seconds of being alone, but who’s counting? Some days, it’s strange that I still must stop and consider if you are really gone. I sometimes think that you got up before me, or that that you’ll be coming back home soon. Recently, I had a dental procedure when I thought for a moment that you would drive me. I have a test with a gastroenterologist this month and I’ll need someone to bring me home; something that you would do. Every day, there are things that need to be accomplished, but I am unable to do it myself. The racoon has been climbing the pole to the birdfeeder at night and tearing apart the feeders. I searched all over for the missing grate to the suet feeder that was in pieces before I found it. Then I couldn’t reach high enough to reposition the hanger on the pole without finding a stepstool. I bought just a few bags of mulch to place around the edges of the flower beds, but I had to leave them in the trunk of the car until I could get some help to unload them. I miss you when I must take both garbage cans out to the end of our long, long driveway. I miss you for these kinds of things but for so many other reasons, too. I miss you when I must make decisions about things I’ve never experienced. Nissan called recently and wants me to trade in the Altima, but I barely have it broken in and I love it, so I’m not doing that! I miss discussing news events or talking about Sunday sermons; I miss your encouragement and support in my Mary Kay business. I miss you when I’m not invited to do things that are geared for “couples”. I just miss your companionship and your love!
I know you are in a better place and that I will see you again one day when Christ returns to claim His church, but the earthly part of my being just longs for your physical touch. I’m asking God to “Teach me to number my days – that I might have a heart of wisdom”. (Psalm 90:12) I want to be aware of the time I have each day to serve and honor the Lord to the best of my ability and in the time that I still have left on this earth. I want to finish well. Thank you, Frank, for the godly example you had on me and for your precious, sweet love.
Tom and Pam stopped by this afternoon with a Frosty for each of us and one extra, for you, now in the freezer. We all miss you! Love you, Pam
Wonderful memories
Yes, Betty. I’m so thankful that I have them!
Pam, what a beautiful letter to Frank. Roscoe and I miss him dearly. Frank was always kind and encouraging, asking about our son’s baseball endeavors weekly. I can still see him grinning and asking Roscoe, “What are you going to do with all that money,” whenever Roscoe had to work overtime. Frank could light up a room even if he wasn’t wearing one of his brightly colored shirts.
I’m so glad your memories are good ones, too! He did light up a room, didn’t he?
You are always on top of every situation be it good or sad! I love the way you always come out remembering and ending up on the top side of all situations.
Awww! Thanks, Pam. You encourage me to keep on keeping on!
Dearest Pam,
What a lovely message to your sweetheart, Frank. I’m wondering if he read it from heaven and turned to Jesus saying, “ Thank you, Lord, for giving me Pam as my devoted wife.”
I thought of Frank many times last week as the Memorial Tournament progressed. In 2018, our little group of friends enjoyed going in and out from our home in Muirfield to watch the golfers. I’ll never forget hugging Frank good bye that day, never suspecting he would fly away to Jesus so soon.
Praying for your comfort and joy in this season.
Debbie – you always warm my heart with beautifully phrased words and sweet comforting thoughts, no matter the occasion. Thank you for this comment. It’s all good!