I just dropped you and Carol off at the airport. We hugged. Your eyes welled with tears, red. “I love you so much,” I said. I want so much for you to be with them all the time, every Sunday, the way I was with Grandma and Grandpa. We all went to Nathan’s, and I played with the electronic seat of Grandpa’s Cadillac. I want Lucas and Abigail to have memories like that too, of you, their Grandpa. I love that you love them so much. And I worry the words I have don’t go the distance. You can’t know the profound effect you’ve had on my life. I worry one day that you’ll die, that I won’t have you here anymore, to call, to confide, to get advice, to laugh. You understand me better than anyone in the world. I love that I’ve given you grandchildren. I love so much the way you love them, the way you filed Abigail’s nails and called it “beauty parlor.” The way you whispered to both of them, one at a time, how you’d never let anything bad happen to them, that you’d always take care of them, the way you’ve done for me. That I can always count on you and trust you. You are an exquisite father and friend. I love you far beyond. I always, always will. And your grandchildren will always know you and the love you have for them. I cannot wait to see you again. I love you so so much.