Fourth Month:
A Letter to Steve from Mom

Please note that this letter to Steve was a device for reflection.
It was not an attempt to communicate with Steve.

June 8, 2001

Dear Steve,

This week will mark the four-month anniversary of your accident and home-going. I have to say that it has been pretty quiet around here, and I miss you every day.

Your dad and I took that Florida vacation a few weeks ago: the one you helped plan. The beach was beautiful, and in Tallahassee we saw many of our old friends. It was a bittersweet reunion without you.

Last weekend we finally bought a pick-up truck. We had talked about getting one for so long. Remember, you and I even looked at a few together. You would like it. It's big and black and so cool! But I know you wouldn't come back for anything, not even to ride in my truck. You are probably doing wheelies around heaven in your golden chariot!

I've been thinking about all the things I miss about you, like:

• Sitting near you while I read aloud or did other school work or devotions with you.
• Getting a kiss on the cheek from you when I made pancakes. (I haven't made pancakes since you've been gone. It was a long time before I could even eat breakfast again.)
• Watching a movie together at home while munching popcorn and throwing popcorn at the dog.
• Hearing you play your guitar in your room or in the garage. The mice have probably moved back into the barn. Remember how they would scurry out of their hiding places when you and Chad played your guitars in the barn with the amps wide open?!
• Taking you to hockey, guitar lessons, game night, to a friend's house or a birthday party. (I guess we are saving a lot on gas!)
• Your hugs. You were so big and strong and tall.
• Our talks on the porch.

You were such a fun companion. I don't have an excuse now to enjoy those things we shared together like:

• Air shows
• Car shows
• Hockey games
• FL State Football
• Camping
• Hiking
• Action movies
• Pizza
• Field trips
• Christian rock music (OK, you liked it a little rockier than I do!)
• Driving around exploring new places
• Reading good books out loud
• Etc.

You are quite the pioneer now, aren't you? You have gone on ahead to that place God has prepared for us. We still hope and yearn for heaven, but you do not hope anymore. All your hopes and dreams have been fulfilled by your Heavenly Father. Your dad and I will join you soon, in God's perfect timing. Meanwhile, we are…

Missing you,
Mom