If I Could Write You a Letter

Dear Kyle,

I miss you. I can't believe it's been exactly a year since I last saw you. Exactly a year since we chatted, since you leaned across Sara in her car to say, "Bye, Beth - I'll see you later," as you left the church parking lot to go home.

I was excited that day because Joann's was having a sale and I could spend some of my birthday money on some storage pieces for my scrapbooking. We had lunch at Pop's and Ro took the kids home and Mom and I went shopping, much like any other Sunday.

Except that when I got to youth group that night everything had changed. I could tell something was horribly, terribly wrong just by the look on Sarah's face when she opened the door and called Chad down to me. I don't want to recount those moments here, although I'll never forget it. I can vivdly recall every heartbreaking moment when I got the news that, no, you wouldn't be seeing me later. At least not on this earth. I imagine everyone else who knew you will never forget it, either.

What an impact you made on people's lives, Kyle. Was there no one you didn't touch? I don't know of anyone who knew you who didn't think you were one of the greatest people to walk this planet. Everyone loved you. Sure, you drove us all nuts from time to time, but man, I miss it. I miss your silly pranks and your laugh and your cocky attitude. I miss your sense of humor and flippant comments. I miss you sharing what God has been doing in your life (I can only imagine now!), and I miss watching you grow into a wonderful man of God. What a privilege it has been to know you, Kyle.

The day of your funeral, Kyle, I saw people who loved you stand tall and silent in their grief. I saw others, too, strong men who I've never seen without a smile, broken and distraught. Together we could all smile as we reflected on some of our best memories with you ~ toilet papering your car, playing ball, "OOOOGA BOOOGA," bootleggers, and more ~ and together we grieved because you're not with us here any more.

It's been a year, and I still think of you constantly. I see guys with similar haircuts or gathering shopping carts at Target, or I hear from our friends, or I'm just reminded of other little things. And I wonder, as much as my heart hurts, how can your family even bear it? How can a mother function after losing her son? How can a father, a brother?

By God's grace they continue, and I know He comforts them as they slowly heal. I know they are secure in the fact that they'll (we'll) all be seeing you in heaven again. They know that there, you are whole and perfect and wonderful and praising our Father Who has brought you home. They know that, and I know that, and still our hearts ache because you were such a precious part of our lives.

You are missed, my friend. Much more than you know.

Love,
Queen B