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.