I wrote to you last November. It was on the three year anniversary of your death. I think I’ll write you a letter every November 7. It’s just a way for me to let you know how everything is going with your beautiful family.
It’s been four years since you’ve left us, and I miss you all the time. Your “I Feel Swell” shirt hangs on a hook in my room. It doesn’t fit me too well, but I’ll hold onto it for as long as I live. It’s one of my favorite shirts I own, only because of how important you are to me. I’m graduating in May. It’s hard to believe, but the time has come for me to begin the next period of my life. I want to make you proud, so I’m excited to see where my career takes me. So much has happened since the last time I wrote you a letter. I’ve had TWO haircuts since then. That’s one more than the previous year. Two of your grandchildren married over the last year, also. Elizabeth, originally Betsy, married Mike. (yes, there’s another Michael in the McCauley’s.) And Katie married Frank. Both of the weddings were terrific, and a baby even was born during Elizabeth’s. Shannan went into labor on the dance floor, and later had a beautiful girl named Anna.
My dad’s mom passed away on last Memorial Day. She fought, and fought, but ultimately rests now in a better place. I know you two are hanging out and everything, but it’s tough here on Earth without you two. My nana was the nicest, more caring person I’ve ever met. I understand where my dad gets his kindness. My dad would do anything for anyone, and that’s why I am so proud to be his son. I remember the Sunday dinners we all shared the last couple years of your life after grandma died. My nana would come sometimes, too, and the one time you asked her if the medicine she took had been birth control. You always knew how to make people laugh.
I want to thank you for your positive influence on my life. Your passion for life and your family remains the biggest lessons you taught me. It’s so important to live life passionately, and you did that better than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re the inspiration to this website, so your memory will always live on.
Today, I’ll do what I always do on November 7. I will eat M & M’s, listen to John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt and drink cream soda, just the way you taught.