Catching up

I'm so proud of everyone who ran White Rock in memory of Steve. I still need to post results and photos. I've been especially busy with Christmas activities and work. And, after last year's glorious race day, it's difficult to recap this year's day in Steve's absence. I appreciate your patience and hope to complete the post soon!

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Betty, Katie and Cooper on Monday

Cooper, Katie, Betty and I went to the flagship Neiman Marcus today to let Cooper and Katie crawl through this year's Christmas window display. (It's a whimsical, interactive tunnel designed for children 4 through 10. If you're in Dallas and have time this week, you should go!)

On the drive downtown, Katie said to Betty, "Grandma, I wish one of your kids didn't die."

I'm proud of Katie for thinking beyond her own loss and for considering how Steve's death affects others.

Katie and Tyra before church Sunday

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Cooper has been talking a lot lately about everything he would trade to have Daddy back. All of his Legos. Everything in his room. All the money in the world.

Cooper and Katie on Sunday

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Every day I discover something else I miss about Steve. It's a blessing, really, that it comes in drips and not one big flood all at once. I would be washed away if my heart fully realized everything at one time.

This weekend, when I caught a glimpse of the Kansas-Michigan game, I realized how much I missed and will miss watching Michigan basketball games with Steve.

I miss how he would say "very nice," kind of like Elvis.

I miss how he made me feel confident.

I miss how he would send me a one-word e-mail out of the blue. The word: Blub. (It was our silly code word for "I love you, and I'm thinking of you, and you make me happy, and thank you.")

I miss how he would make us all laugh at dinner with funny voices -- especially his exaggerated German accent.

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Tonight Betty and I attended a holiday memorial service offered by our hospice agency.

We each lit a candle in remembrance of a loved one and spoke the name aloud.

In that moment, I felt not drips of grief but an entire flood.

But then the storm subsided. It always does.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

(Hebrews 11:1)