Five.

Monday began with celebrating Matt's birth...

And ended with celebrating Bill's life.

In the lull of the morning turned into afternoon I went and I sat at the river.

I was quiet. I was still.

I let my thoughts ramble and range.

I thought of this summer. I thought of this journey. Mostly I thought of him.

I returned home to a voicemail, and so I placed a call.

I was asked how my day was, and they waited in my quiet for the real answer to come.

Five Years.

It sounds long. It sounds further away. It sounds more like a memory.

In a postcard that came perfectly three days early, a best friend staying for the weekend, a Waffle House celebration of Matty, a quiet moment at the River's Edge, a voicemail then phone call with the BFF, a dinner at the Melting Pot with Mandy, the text messages and calls from those who remembered the day... I was loved. I was supported. I didn't run from it, and I didn't apologize for needing it.

Maybe it took me Five years to learn that lesson.

The fabric of this life has been enormously complicated, and at times painfully crafted... but on a day like Five... without question or a second glance it was clearly and miraculously woven in love.

Letters. Postcards. Write them. Share your life. Open your heart. Empty it on a page. Give someone the opportunity to hold it, capture it, and find the time machine and life line they become when you are gone. Those letters could change your life.

I know, that they've changed mine.