9 years

This is the annual post I put up with a pic of me and my dad. Two days ago (12.29) marked 9 years without him. God has been gracious and brought lots of healing in those years, but big life events (like having a baby and stuff) always makes me feel the weight of his absence. As some people on Facebook wrote of him this week on a picture of the peewee football team he coached for several years when he was a bachelor, "He was a great a coach, and an even finer human being." He'd be a great grandpa, but apparently Jesus had other plans.

Story time: My dad let me drive him around in that go-cart as a 6 year old (as seen above in my early 90s acid wash jeans). It was awesome. I definitely took a sharp turn that threw him from the go-cart the day the picture was taken, possibly into some prickly pears. He kept letting me drive. Later, when I was about 10, I graduated to driving golf carts around that property and surrounding lake community. I ran into the side of the trailer home (my grandparents' "lake house"). They STILL let me drive. When I was 14, I graduated to driving an old "go-getter" SUV with my grandpa, who would often fall asleep while I was at the wheel. Luckily, I didn't hit or tip anything else until I was in college.