A letter for you, Mom… one year later!

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since you went to Heaven. I wonder what it’s like there. We sure have missed you here. So much has happened over the last 365 days, and there have been so many times I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and call you just to tell you about it.

We just got back from Denver visiting Adam and Alex. They’re doing great. Adam even went to Japan earlier this year. They’re seeing the world, Mom, and I know you’d love hearing about their adventures.

And your Logie Bear is doing so good. He is enjoying his new job and just moved into an apartment. You were always so proud of him.

And Allison… Mom, she is such a good mom. She and Chase are doing great, and you wouldn’t believe how much Sutton and Crosby have grown. Allison talks about you all the time. I see so much of the legacy you left in her… in the way she loves her family, the way she cares for others, and the way she is raising her kids, too. I know that would make you smile.

Sutton is already in second grade!! That beautiful red hair you loved so much is still there. She’s confident and super creative…and planning to be a YouTube sensation.

And Crosby is already in fourth grade. You should see how long his hair got this summer! He’s becoming such a natural leader. He’s doing great in martial arts and had a great soccer season. We all watched the World Cup together, and he loved rooting for Messi and Argentina. But what I love most is his heart. Mom, it just keeps getting bigger. He is friends with everyone… like you.

It’s funny, Mom. I see little pieces of you everywhere now. In Allison as a mom. In Crosby’s big heart. In the stories you left behind. And sometimes, I even hear you in the things I say to my own kids and grandkids.

Mark got married to Jennalee. We talked about you at the wedding and how much you would have loved being there, knowing he found someone to share life with… coffee, travel, and so much more.

And Dad, oh man, did he look sharp at the wedding. He misses you so much!

Dana and I have been traveling quite a bit. We took a cruise earlier this year, and I even got to speak on the ship. In July, we traveled to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and you would have absolutely loved it, Mom… the history, the scenery, the beautiful weather, and spirit. Every time I come home from a trip, I want to call you and tell you all about it.

There have been some hard days this past year. Christmas. Your birthday. Your anniversary. Mother’s Day. Days like this just feel a little different without you.

Mom, I’m so glad you wrote in the journal I gave you years ago. What a gift it is to have your words to read and share with others. It brings me so much joy to read your monthly reflections… stories about your first car, your favorite teacher, and the little things that mattered to you along the way. I can hear your voice in those pages. I’m grateful you took the time to write them down.

I always tell people that you gave me one of the greatest gifts in life: the gift of belief. You always believed in me. I still think about Las Vegas when I was one strike away from perfection and you were right there believing in me. And later bowling in the U.S. Open when you reminded me that I belonged to be there competing with the best in the world. I don’t think you ever realized how much those words stayed with me.

They weren’t really about bowling. You taught me to believe I belonged. You helped me believe I could do hard things and that I was capable of more than I sometimes believed myself.

That belief has been an anchor for me ever since. And I hope you know I’m trying to pass that gift along to my kids, my grandkids, and the people I meet along the way. Maybe that’s one of the best ways I can carry your legacy forward… believing in others the way you believed in me.

By the way, I found some of the postcards I mailed you back when I was in college and laughed when I read the card about my snow skiing trip with my fraternity brothers. So funny to see those cards after all these years. I send postcards to my grandkids now when I travel.

I guess that’s another piece of you I’m carrying forward… saving the stories and letting the people you love know you’re thinking about them.

I miss your voice, Mom. I miss telling you something good and hearing how excited you would get for me. I miss your questions and the way you always wanted to know what everyone was doing. Mostly, I just miss knowing I could call.

I think about you a lot when I run in the mornings. When songs play in my earphones, there you are. Especially when I hear Karen Carpenter, I think about you. It’s amazing how a song, a journal entry, or an old memory can make someone feel so close again.

I have so much more I could tell you, but I guess I’ll stop for now. Next time I write, I’ll tell you more about my new book I am working on and the different lane I am now driving in. You always encouraged me to keep going and keep finding ways to make a difference. So I’ll keep you updated.

Until we can talk again, just know we’re thinking about you. We miss you…

And Mom, I sure do love you. Your son, Bruce