Stand In The Rain It's Thanksgiving. Our third one without Dave. The first Thanksgiving after Dave died was the first "major" holiday, and I remember driving to Denise's house, stuck in traffic on the freeway, crawling along at 10 mph, hearing Lonestar's "I'm Already There" and all four of us crying. Rivers of tears. Tears with no end. There weren't any tears this year. My heart didn't simply break into a million piecese when I looked around the table and Dave wasn't there. I didn't expect to see him bounding around the corner, with that little bounce in his step, keys jingling. My eyes didn't fill when I saw Amy or Luke or Jake squeeze through the furniture and thought of Dave putting up his legs, setting up a "toll gate," the price of passage a big Dave-hug. Is that better? In some ways I think it's worse. To absolutely know he's gone. And to have become resigned to it. To have that missing him be...
...keep on keepin' on