Dear Dad,

I missed you a lot today.

Love,

Betty Bop

It's time to write about my favorite tree. When dad was first diagnosed and we learned it was terminal, I used to sit out on the deck and allow myself to be sad. I would just stare into the woods not really seeing anything. And then I would look at my favorite tree and allow the tears to flow. It's a tall cottonwood tree that shimmers and glimmers when the sun is setting, especially in late summer and early fall. I had always thought to myself - when I die I want to be looking at that tree. The leaves always fluttered so gently with the wind.

One night as I sat on the deck thinking about dad, there was this heavy, angry wind that started to blow. A storm was coming. I watched the limbs and leaves on the trees in the woods start to sway back and forth with a vengance, as they do with an approaching summer storm. When I looked up at my favorite tree though, the leaves just fluttered peacefully. It was August 16th. I knew it wasn't dad's time yet. Not tonight. So it was okay.

The morning that dad died, there was a thick fog blanketing the city. It was very quiet. As the fog lifted it only revealed clouds and drizzle. When I got home that night, Terry said, "honey, come look at your tree." The sun had come out. Just a little. Just enough to shine on that tree. And the leaves shimmered and glimmered.

And today, that's all I know.