Dear Chris,

I imagine you’ve spent your first 8 months in heaven a little differently than I’ve spent my time here on Earth.  You and your Opa and your brother, Adam, have probably spent most of the time catching up, laughing about old times.  And your world must feel a little more complete now that Oma and Opa are back together.  I’m sure you’ve chatted up Jimmy V about this year’s team, and life, and death.  Maybe caught a round of golf with Abe Lincoln.  I imagine you’ve spent a lot of time enjoying pain-free fishing; probably one of the only reasons you weren’t angrier with God for taking you so soon.  And although you would never admit it, I’m sure you cried when you met Him.  If there’s anyone He could embrace with sincere joy for their work on Earth, it would be you.

But I think the best way to end 2016 is to catch you up on what’s happened back here.  Because I’m sure, as you look back down on me through the clouds, you feel like you’ve left a kid alone in the mall.  Or the park.  Or a very large industrial plant that makes something very dangerous, like explosive legos.  I actually feel the same.  I feel like I’ve been left alone without adult supervision.  Or like I’m only a moment away from something exploding in my face.  Thank goodness you left me with so many security guards.

Now, I know I haven’t done everything your way.  You’ve been very clear about that, based on the “divine intervention” you’ve provided.  I know that wasn’t God – God wouldn’t use lightning that strategically.

And I notice you haven’t lost your sense of humor, based on the most recent mishap in the movie theater.  Thanks for that mortifying call to Ryan.

But did you see that both cars are staying almost perfectly maintained?  The basics, at least – oil changes, new tires when needed, inspections, etc.

And the bills are staying paid, and on time.  I’m even keeping costs down.  Did you see that thermostat setting?  That’s dedication, right there.

And I know you saw me clean that hot tub all by myself.  Every single square inch.  Like a boss.

I even recognized that the house needed to be power-washed, and did something about it.  And I had the cherry blossom replaced with a Japanese maple, just like you always wanted.  See?  I do listen.  And not surprisingly, you were right, it does look much better.

But…the security guards.  You really left a lot of them.  Mike has taken the role of “surrogate husband” to a new level, as I’m sure you would have done the same.  Matt has kept the yard immaculate- still the best looking lawn around.  Michael has made it his personal mission to fix those walkway lights.  And my place setting at their dinner table is just short of permanent.  I still can’t believe how patient Ryan is with me and my incompetence with our entertainment system.  Jeremey continues to reach out – impressive with those toddler twins.  Your entire men’s group seems like they’re on-call 24 hours a day.  And the Edward Jones region has really taken your slogan of “Here to Serve” to heart.  I swear, everytime I even have a notion of making a big decision, I get a call from Mark.  Or Donna.  Or Megan.  Or Barbara.  It’s like they all have a 6th sense just for me.

Not that it’s a competition, but I think Brad misses you the most.  Or maybe everyone else is just keeping it to themselves…

I imagine you’ve talked God’s ear off for the Barretts.  If you were here, you would have driven straight over as soon as you heard about Rhett, and maybe cried a little, sitting with Mike.  But up there, you’re probably using those astounding persuasive powers of your’s, haggling with God for a full recovery.  You always did love a challenge in negotiations.

I do wonder how it works, being a guardian angel and all.  Do you split your time between all of us?  Do you just reach out when we need it?  Because as much havoc as we’re causing down here, you must be working non-stop.  Maybe instead of overtime, you get extra ham sandwiches.  That would be heaven for you.

And I continue to be reminded how well you served your clients, based on how often they try to return the favor to me.  You really attracted some good souls.

Your family sure misses you and Oma.  But as always, they’re persevering.

I know I’m not reaching out to people as much as you’d like.  I can feel it.  Everytime I tell myself that I need to make a call, send a text, or make a visit to a friend or family member, I know that’s really you nudging me.  I don’t always follow-through.  But you have to admit that I’m soooo much better than I was.  Even still, I’m sure I’m not meeting your high expectations.  Keep nudging, and I’ll keep working on it.

And Finley has accepted me as her supplemental best friend.   She still prefers to ride shotgun.  And I can see her pout every time we drive right past Bojangles’.  “No people food” must have just been my rule, huh?

I get the feeling that although you’re not crazy about some of my purchases, you’ve accepted them.  Surely, if you’d really had an issue, you would have “divinely” halted them.  But you always knew how much I loved Wilmington.  And you had to know how much I hated that couch.

And you certainly would have stepped in with that one thing if you had concerns.  But I can feel you’ve accepted it.  Sometimes I tell myself you had a hand in it, but that could just be wishful thinking.

So, it has been a “Record Year” down here, slowly planning my survival.  I’ve had a lot of firsts.  A lot of learning.  Even more wine.  And only me and these walls know how many times I’ve played that song, still singing over my speakers on ten.

But I’ve had more successes than failures.  To the best of my ability, I’ve tried to make informed decisions.  I’ve sought wise counsel from the same people you would have sought out.  In short, I’ve done my best.

Deep down, I’m just hoping I’ve given you a few opportunities to lean over to God, and proudly whisper, “That’s my girl.”

Of course, when I get there, I’ll still have a lot of explaining to do to God.  I can imagine Him standing there, arms crossed, foot-a-tapping, just waiting for my full explanations. You’ll be right behind Him with the same stance.  But God will have to wait.  Because when I get there, I’m making a bee line for you, and your arms.  And although you’ll glare at me with that infamous look of discernment, we both know it will melt away as soon as you hear my giggle and my, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…”.  You’ll still have all of eternity to heckle me.  And make me explain.  And lecture me about how YOU would have done it.

So our love story will continue anyway, just differently than we planned.  I’ll keep living things out here on Earth, while you watch over us all from up there.  We’re all really hoping we never have a year more challenging than this one.  But at this point, we’ve also learned better than to tell God our plans.   If you negotiate anything, can you just negotiate for 2017 to be a little easier on us?

Until I see you again…

I love you.  Always.

~Katie