so far and so close

 This weekend marked eight years since losing dad. 

The number eight sounds big, but it feels even bigger because of how different my whole life is now than when he last knew me. 

I’m not the single college girl home for summer, working two food jobs to pay for my Bible translation training. 

I’m married, I’m a stepmom and a mom, I’m homeschooling, and I live back in my hometown again. 

My everyday life involves so little of him that it makes him feel more distant. The heartache of knowing that no one in my little family ever got to meet him. 

But he feels a little closer because I say his name 100 times a day when I call my little boy. 

He feels a little closer because I wear his clothes more days than not. 

He feels a little closer because reminders of him are everywhere: in making fried egg sandwiches, misspelling words, taking good pictures, or loving a dog. 

He feels closest because I know he is part of me, part of the very fiber of my being. 

Eight years. So far, and so close.