I’ve been told I look like you. With the same greenish-hazel eyes, the same golden brown ringlets, the same framed eyes, I am definitely your daughter.
There are a lot of people that know you. They tell me about how smart you were, how talented you were, how funny you were. Some say they see the same faith in me that was in you. The kind of passionate faith that makes a person take risks, makes a person achieve a goal even if it seems impossible. I sure hope that is true.
They also tell me about how you strummed your guitar and sang songs of praise. When I play my keyboard I think of you sometimes. I wonder if I have the same music DNA that you had. With you the notes came out of the very fibers in your being, strumming the chords of your heart and singing the song of your soul. The chords and songs make me feel connected to you. The music transcends time, dawdling with the sweet memory of you playing in the dim light.
I also wonder about the parts of your life that people don’t praise. The cracks and weathered parts that cover every human. Our fallen-ness coats us in sin, but that coat can be replaced with a white veil. What kind of pain did you feel when you knew you have to leave this life early? Did it feel like your song was taken from you? What does your veil look like?
You were a man of many sorrows, as well as a man of many joys. It was your faith that kept you going.