The first of many good-byes

Something just doesn't feel right. Even when a good-bye is the best thing, the timely thing, it cannot feel completely right.

An almost empty room. empty shelves, sheetless bed - the same mattress we bought for his first "big boy" bed at 2 years of age.

The memories well up. Odd ones, random ones, peppering the day. . .

Your obsession with "Hoppa-doppas" (helicopters)

The brightest smile in the room.

Figuring out on your own how to count by tens to 100 before kindergarten, while still struggling to tie a secure knot in your shoe.

A dozen big brothers five days a week.

Proud big brother in the hospital greeting sibling after sibling, after sibling.

Cubs colored rubber bands on braces.

Baseball games, all star tournaments, lots of frozen burritos as we rushed out the door.

Forts in the great room.

Learning patience with siblings.

Swimming in the summers whenever you possibly could.

A math brain I could never out-teach.

Owning your faith.

Struggling to find your life direction with college a few years away.

Pouring out skills and gifts for God.

First job, and an even better second job.

Saving every penny.

Determined to meet every goal set.

Independently driven.

Remembering the times that you pulled and we pushed, the times you questioned and we encouraged, you hesitated and we prompted,

. . . and somewhere along the way you took it all and ran with it following decisively as God directed you better than we ever could have.

And we just watch and marvel at the man you have become.