I don’t really know what to say about him. There’s too much to say. I still think of him every 10 minutes. I think I’m forgetting what his face looks like because I saw it in so many emotions, lights, and various degrees of facial hair. But then I spot his face in a photograph and it’s more familiar than my own face.
I know the exact thickness of his hair from touch alone. I know what his beard feels like on my face when it was long and unruly and when it was only stubble. I know the smell of him that’s now faded from all of his clothing. I know what style of jeans fit him, and what styles made him look like a goof. I know what his voice sounded like when it laughed and when it whispered. Sometimes I forget what it sounded like in conversation because I heard it do so many things, but then I hear it again and it’s like what a mother’s voice must sound like to a fetus. All around and deep inside like it’s part of me.
I knew his deepest fears. I knew his greatest joys. I knew his strengths. I knew his weaknesses. I knew him better than any other person…but not now. All those things are past, and I don’t know what his joys and strengths and favorites are anymore. But I know he doesn’t have any fears. His weaknesses have all been edified.
I know he’s happier than he’s ever been. I know he’s safer than he’s ever been. I know he’s stronger and healthier and more alive than he ever was. I know he’ll never die again. I know he’ll live forever…perfectly.
Because I love him so much, I’d rather he stay there and wait for me. I’d rather go through 3 years of happiness with him and a lifetime of missing him than never to have known him. I’m just so, so thankful I’ll see him again.
He’s my favorite person, and possibly the handsomest, too. There’s a close runner-up I’m thinking of, but that runner-up looks like him, and is as loving in a boyish way as he was loving in a manish way.
I can’t wait to see him.

Love you, Nate.

7th generation logger. A lumberjack, if you will. I have this picture in Jack’s room. Any son would be proud to have this man as his father.


The first time he held his baby son.

He liked to friendly fight and had a lot of black eyes. Seriously, he was always friends with people he got into fights with. I’m still friends with people he met through fighting them.