I will eventually get back to posting those anecdotes about the boys. As for right now, thoughts of my dad still occupy most of my waking moments.

So it seems fitting that I share what happened over the weekend.

It was my 7-year-old’s first flag football game of the season. I was secretly dreading it, since my mother and father were always sitting on the sidelines at Griffin’s games, cheering him on. This year, Dad wouldn’t be there. Dad was Griffin’s biggest fan. Last season, when I expressed concern that I “wasn’t sure this was his strongest sport,” Dad told me, “be patient. He’ll get better with time.” And just like all the other advice my father has given me, he was right.

All last season, Griff would get frustrated for never grabbing a flag or being a part of the games’ plays. Often, Griffin would be running north when the play was running south. Saturday morning, that wasn’t the case.

Before I knew it, Griff ran a 60-yard touchdown and was hurled into the air by his coach. I practically threw Hayden off my lap to jump to my feet and cheer. My joy soon turned to tears, knowing Dad would have been so proud.

Instantly, I text a friend of mine to tell her the news, and she replied…

“I knew I heard cheers from heaven.”

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