An Open Letter to My Papa

Dear Papa,

It's kind of crazy that it's been 10 years.

In some ways it feels every bit that it's been 10 years, and in other ways it feels like I could turn around tomorrow and see you walk through the door.

A lot has happened in 10 years:

Samuel.

Gabe.

11 graduations (yes, in 10 years. Guess we really did turn out to be braniacs, huh?)

7 new drivers.

2 new marriages.

New houses.

Boyfriends.

Girlfriends.

Heartbreaks.

Family Vacations.

Loss.

So many wins.

We did this thing called dual enrollment. It's when you start college while you're in high school. You would've been so so proud. I just know you would've talked about it nonstop.

There's this virus that broke out all over the world called Covid-19. Papa, it shut the whole world down. People were going wild over toilet paper. Like fighting in the stores. CRAZY!

And that's not even half of it.

It feels like time has been moving in slow motion but lightning fast at the same time. I think about you often.

I wonder what our conversations would be like. I wonder what kind of advice you'd give me. I wonder if you'd do Tiktok dances with us, and if you'd let us drive you around.

I wonder if you'd tell your friends about our accomplishments like Granny does.

I wonder if you'd sit Sam down and make him read the Bible like you did Marcus, when he does something wrong.

Would you even care about whoppings anymore? I kind of wonder if you'd just rather lecture at this point because whopping children in 2020 just takes too much work 😂.

I wonder if you'd come to Tanzania and South Africa with me. I just know you'd love all that things I've had a chance to do over there.

I've thought about this day more this year than I have any other year. I'm still not sure why. Instead of focusing on what I don't know, I've decided to focus on what I do know:

I know I miss you.

I know every time I see JJ and Sam I see your face.

I know I hear you in the way Uncle James laughs.

I know I see your smile every time Jadyn makes Daddy smile.

I know every time I look in the mirror and see this 5 head I'm carrying around, I silently grumble and blame you and that Kilgore bloodline 😂.

I know that I feel you in the way that leading comes naturally for me.

I know that I've strived to live a life of integrity, because you taught me that my name is all I have at the end of the day.

I know I remember the last big talk you had with all of us, and I remember just how passionate you were. It seemed like you were trying to tell us everything you could think of about everything we'd need to know in this life.

I know I remember you every time I eat peanut butter crackers and oatmeal pies.

I know that what I see today is a manifestation of so many prayers that you prayed.

and I know that your children and all 10 of your grandchildren are living your wildest dreams.

I hope you're proud of us... of me.

I don't think there'll ever be a time where your absence doesn't sting, but I will say it doesn't sting as much anymore.

We'll make sure that even though Sam and Gabe didn't get to meet you, they'll know how great you were and they'll know about the legacy you left.

I'm proud to be your granddaughter.

Proud to have your smile.

Proud to carry on your legacy.

Proud to be a Kilgore.

Your absence hurts here but it also reminds me of the hope we have in Jesus.

The hope that tells me that what I'm experiencing is simply a waiting period. A day is coming when I'll be able to hug you again, and sit with you, and talk with you. And what a day that'll be. I can't wait.

We're going to Dennis World... just as soon as the world opens up.

I love you, Papa. I miss you more than words could ever express.

Nysi