Him.
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.
Him.
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.
Him.
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.
Him.
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.
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The first time he held his baby son.
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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.
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Handsome.
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