Memories to Smile About

Michael,

I love that I'll be going along, doing my usual routine, and all the sudden I'll remember something about you or us that makes me smile.

Like, Lofthouse Cookies.  Oh man, you loved 'em.  Especially that last year....That was your fettish.  So cute.  And gees, I can't blame ya'.  I remember looking on the nutrition facts for those things and always remembering that shocking information when you'd come home with one of those treats.  :)

Also, Napoleon Dynamite.  What a stupid, stupid show.  I'm sorry....I'm just not one of those people that caught the Napoleon craze.  You, however, oh my gosh...You laughed so hard over that dumb movie.  We went to the movie theater to see it when we were dating.  And you talked about it for years after.  Good times.

Do you remember how I always had to make sure Airborne was in the house, because you were always wanting it on hand?  You'd use that stuff with the sign of any illness, large or small.  I remember once you think you overdosed on it because you broke out in a rash.  Ha ha.  That's my Michael.  Go big or go home.

I also remember when I got stuck in the bank's drive-thru in Arizona one day.  I called you in a panic, going off about how stupid my car was and I begged you to come get me.  You walked probably two or three miles across a field from your school to come to me.  When you got there, you figured out what was wrong with my car and we were off.  Oh, man...I love you.

Another Arizona memory that came to mind was when we went to dinner at the home of one of my fellow temple workers.  We spent the evening with two couples who were in their twilight years.  And you were such a good sport about it...You actually even enjoyed yourself.  You were so cute to them and made great conversation.  That was one thing I always appreciated about you...You were great about socializing with others and going places with me.  A great support that way. 

The other day my dad was talking about a guy he knew whose obituary he saw in the paper.  I was asking Dad about this friend and I think I asked something like, "So what did he do with his life?"  And Dad said something to the effect that he didn't win any big prizes but "his life was meaningful."  I thought that was awfully wise of my dad to say, because isn't that what really matters? 
I can tell you, Michael, that your life was meaningful.  And continues to be.  You leave a great legacy behind and I feel that legacy every day.

Last month when our family went on a hike, Andi turned to me after running up the hill and said, "Do you think Daddy Michael sees me running?"  I said of course, and I really believe that.  I know you and I know you wouldn't leave us in the dust.  I believe you're watching over us, and I hope so badly that can keep happening.  I need your help and encouragement, and I need to feel connected to you. 

Always and forever~