A Letter to Patrick
I know you’re not in pain anymore and I’m thankful for that. I’m glad you’re walking around in your new body without the use of that old cane. And that brings a smile to my face.
While you were here, you loved us. All of us. And everyone in the church has at least one, if not more, stories about you. I’m thankful that I have a thousand.
I’m not sure if you know this, but my father wasn’t very present in my life. I could only see him every other weekend which was hard for me. But because of who you were, you stepped up to fill that hole for both Katy and I. You filled that need. You were like a father to both of us. I want to thank you for that. I want to thank you for being a great godly man who set an example on how to have fun to all the Crocs over the years. I want to thank you, despite being in pain, for cooking, for doing yard work, and to be the first to volunteer to help out at the church.
And I want to thank you for all that you have done for me. You came to my house one day to help my mom with something. While you were there, you saw the shape the vehicle I was going to take up to my college in Indiana was in. And you, being you, offered to help knowing that you would be doing the majority of the work since I knew nothing about fixing cars. And the things that I know about them now, come from what you taught me. And I know that I never would have made it that 13-hour drive without all the work that you did for me. I wish you were here so I could thank you for all that you have done; for me and for this church.
This goes without saying, we are all going to miss you. But we know that you are in a better place and that we will see you again in paradise. We know that you are in heaven making Jesus laugh and waiting for the rest of us.
I’m never going to forget you. Every time I get in the Blazer I’ll think back to those hot days we spent in the smoldering summer sun working on it. Every time I’m having a bad day I’ll think of those jokes you used to tell me; both the good ones and the ones I felt guilty for laughing at. And every time I see that church van I’ll think back to that time you helped your granddaughter blame her farts on me. Every single person in that van hated me that day. But later when you confessed, I couldn’t help but laugh. You always loved making us laugh. And I’m never going to forget that. I’m never going to forget you, Patrick.
I love you, Patrick. We love you, Patrick.
With deepest sorrow,