Missing You

Hey Big Guy, sorry I didn’t post last week.  I had trouble putting putting together a post dealing with my week without you here.  I’ll still work on that one and publish it at a later date when I can bring myself to describe every day in a week about what I’m doing and going through.  In the meantime, some small things have been popping up that I miss hearing or seeing you do and I wanted to tell you about them.

I miss your interactions with the ferrets.  How they rushed to follow you around when you got home from work and would call their names.  Your mom and I both miss the way you called them, from your Hanky-panky-panky to your Quinny-quinicus.  I miss hearing your shrieks  when you were playing with them and they’d bite your feet.  I miss you playing the blanket game with Hank just to get him worked up and putting him under the covers while mom was in bed.  I especially miss how they would let you hold them indefinitely and how happy they looked in your arms.  They don’t do that with anyone else in the house.

I miss the way you’d burp out loud just to get your mom to yell at you.  I know I should have supported your mother in this, but I couldn’t help laughing every time she’d yell out CONNOR!!! after the burp.  As much as she hated it, she told me that she misses it as well when we were talking this weekend.

I miss seeing how excited the people at Starbucks were when you’d go through the drive-thru.  It was pretty cool seeing all those employees come to the window just to say hi to you.  It reminded me of how much people loved you outside of this house even if Starbucks sucks.

I miss how excited you would get to show me some new TV program or have me listen to a new song that you liked even though you knew I’d probably hate it.  I’d give anything to watch an episode of Castlevania or hear the new Madison Ryann Ward song (see, I was paying attention).

I miss you hanging out with me down in my office when you’d get home from work.  I really enjoyed listening to you vent about work because I knew that meant our relationship was good.  I wasn’t so long ago that you would only talk to your mom about that stuff.  If we’re being honest, I think she was a little jealous that you and I were spending more time together.

Most of all Big Guy, I just miss you.  You were larger than life and you strived to help anyone you could.  Whether it was driving me to doctor’s appointments or going to pick up a friend from work and driving them home, your goal was to help.  You wouldn’t believe the cards we’ve gotten for you, or the friends contacting us to say how sorry they were.  The best part of those calls were that every single one of them had multiple stories of how you made their life better.  There’s a big, empty hole in this world now, and I don’t think it can ever be filled.  I love you son and I wish I had one more chance to tell you.