His last day was a testament to who he was everyday, so I want to share it, to preserve its precious memory. Baby girl, who isn’t much of a napper, had not just one, but two naps on his chest that day.
They played in the swing and house.
He sent his parents this last picture of her. He loved how she liked to pick up heavy things like watermelon.
My last call from him was when I was driving home from work and he called to ask if we could loan money to a refugee family so they could get a new water heater. He then spent several phone calls calling back and forth between the family and a plumber, even agreeing to help the plumber so that they could get a discount.
But he always made these phone calls when I was doing something else because he guarded and prized our family time.
We had dinner together and then he even let me go for a run alone without her because he knew that was the most refreshing for me. We talked and then before he left we kissed and I remember thinking that that kiss was as good as our first kiss.
This is what he said in our last text conversation.
We chatted between his rides, and he made $22 and then $42 and then $49 and then $52. And we laughed about a ride only costing $3. And then I fell asleep.
I don’t think he ever consiously thought about living each day as if it were his last. This is just how he lived his life. Loving his family, helping others, and savoring moments, long slow moments. He loved so well. He loved us through hugs and kisses, and dinners together, and time, through kind words and selfless acts, and working late nights to provide and achieve our dream.
He was the hands and feet of Jesus to me for three years. I love him so.