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Scott, on the floor playing with Allan & Jake
(that's my grandmother in the background - the two of them are buried side by side now) |
Today I'm thinking about my husband. It should have been his 52nd birthday. He wasn't a scholar, he wasn't a saint, but he was the best husband I could have asked for, and the best daddy Brittany will ever know. It's been a long time since he left us, but I still miss him, and especially on anniversaries of his birth, our wedding, and his death, I still get melancholy. This weekend Brittany and I are going to take George to Escondido to visit his grave site. It's a shame that it's the only way he'll ever know his grandpa. I'm sure Scott would have been PROUD of our little Bear. In my imagination I can see the look on his face now. I can hear him reminiscing about when Brittany was that age, and laughing about how he used to put some eye-catching thing or another in the middle of the coffee table (it was square) just so he could laugh as he watched her go 'round and 'round trying to figure out how to get close enough to reach it. He would have been endlessly fascinated by George.
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