Dear Pop-Pop, I've been thinking about you...

I think it's because I'm turning 35 soon.  And even though I wish it weren't so, when I think of my birthday, I think "he died 7 days before my birthday and was buried 5 days before my birthday".  It was my first thought when they told me you died that January before I turned 8.  I looked up your birthday because I wanted to start remembering when you entered this world, not when you left it.  You would have been 85 years old.  I know we'd have thrown you a party.

35.  My dad was just 36 when you died, a couple of months shy of 37.  A young wife.  4 young children.

I wonder when he had time to grieve.  Between farming, transitioning to the business, trying to be a husband and a father.  When did he get to have a good old ugly cry about his daddy being gone?

My husband's grandmother passed last month.  I know he needed/needs support, but we have a 2 year old and a newborn.  And they need to eat and potty and get baths...and some days that's all I can do.  I hate that I'm not more available for emotional support.  I imagine my mom felt like that times two.  4 young kids when you moved on.

So much time has passed...26 years.  26 years.  How can that be?  How can so much have happened that you were not apart of?  I keep thinking that you've missed so much.  But then I remember...God knew the exact number of your days.  He knew they were from exactly October 10, 1927-January 5, 1986.  You lived exactly as long as He knew you would.  You didn't miss anything.  You had your time here and though we are missing things with you, you are fulfilling your greater plan there.

I can't help but look at my Bo and my Kate and imagine you as their great-grandfather here.  When I named my son Bozeman, would you have thought that was the best?  Would you have smiled with pride that he carried your last name as his own?  Would you have rocked my Kate and patted my dad's back as he called her "the caboose"?  Would you have bought her a red dress?

Oh, and the rest of them.  I have to believe you would...

• Have been in the waiting room when Lori was in labor with Brileigh.  Your first grandchild having your first greatgrandbaby.  You would have been over the moon.  I bet you would have bought Lori a beautiful bouquet of flowers (don't worry...Daddy did).  And when Brileigh grew up and started playing sports, I imagine you'd give her $2 (was it $2?) after the game.  And Kamryn?  Oh, man, you would love her.  The way she works outside would remind you of her Momma.  I bet you'd tell her stories of you taking her momma fishing.  And when finally little Brody came along, you'd tell Lori how glad you are that she had a son, too.  
• Have given Derek a cigar and patted him on the back when his Bailey was born.  And when Landry was born, you'd shine that a little boy was born to carry on the Bozeman name.  You'd beam when you found out his middle name was Ken, like his daddy, grandpa, and great-great grandpa.  And when those little firecracker twins were born?  You would not stop telling people about those identical baby girls.  "4 kids?"  You'd say to Derek.  "4 kids is perfect."
• Have looked at Heath with a knowing look when God blessed him with three sons, for you knew what it was like to raise three boys.  You'd be proud to have three little boys to carry on that Bozeman name.  You'd treat his wife extra special, knowing the special lady it takes to raise three strong sons.  You'd slip Heath a little bit of cash here and there, knowing how much money it takes to feed three growing boys.
• Be so proud that my brothers work with my dad in the businesses.  That something you and your daddy started has continued to the fourth generation.  You'd stop in a lot to have a cup of coffee and shoot the bull with customers.  You'd talk business and shake your head at the computers and the cell phones.  But you'd probably get a cell phone.  Just in case one of your kids, or your grandkids needed to reach you.   

There's been a lot of living done these last 26 years.  And while it seems like so long and so unfair that you have not lived them with us, I have to keep reminding myself how long eternity is.  Because that's how long we'll ultimately have with you.  I'm looking forward to that.  To knowing you.  To you knowing me.  To you knowing my babies.  

We've got a lot of catching up to do.  I can't wait.

I love you,