It was a morning like this, sixteen years ago today. The sky was the brightest of blues. The air was noticably crisp for July in Pennsylvania. And I remember thinking how amazing the clouds looked that day, hovering still and brilliantly bright in the sky.
You left us that day to fly with angels in those clouds.
There hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t thought about you and how I might live my life in honor of yours. I hope I’m making you proud. Miss you.
