I attended a visitation last night for a dear friend of my family who passed on.

I wanted to pay my respects, so I made the short trip to my hometown. Greg stayed behind with the boys to take care of a 4-year-old who had the flu.

The gathering was held in the same funeral home where we paid tribute to my father five months ago. I took a deep breath as I entered the door, and as I spoke with the family, we talked about our children, and how they get us through these heartbreaking times. And how, if it weren’t for their innocent ways, the grief would be unbearable.

Driving home, tears stung my eyes as I remembered the things about my dad that I liked the most, how he always ate Pringles potato chips, how he often tripped and stumbled like I do now, and how he teased his grandson by saying, “How you doin, Joe?” only for him to scream, “My name’s not Joe, it’s Griffin!”

As my emotions got the best of me, I received a text on my phone that read, “Hi, we miss you…Love, Griffin.” So, I wrote back, “Miss you MORE. Love you, buddy.” And I smiled when the next text came through, which read…

Love you MORE.”

That earlier conversation about kids getting you through the tough times couldn’t have been more true.

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