And, yet, I try to. My brain aches trying to remember the things you so clearly describe. Detail for detail, you try to remind me of it, but I can't seem to find anything there. Maybe I think I've found a scrap of something, but I can't be sure. Why, you're memory is ridiculous. No one has a brain like that. But, you do, and I'm glad for you. Sometimes, though, just a little, I'm glad I don't have that kind of memory. There are some things I'd rather leave behind.
Time runs off and you're left standing there, old, gray, tired from a long day. Or was it more than a day? A lifetime spanned out with a million memories jumbled together. An old weathered brain that hasn't been able to catch up to the present. You sit there on your bed after a long night. Then you close your eyes again, for the last time.
And then a new, glorious day breaks forth, and heaven's music springs wildly into your soul.
Alive forever.
I'm still crazy.
So, what does that mean for my kids? Are they gonna be super crazy?
Hey, Kid.
Your dad's at work right now.
He works real hard for you and me.
He loves me so much, and he loves you, too.
He and I felt you movin' around the other day.
We were excited.
I want you to know something about your dad:
He'll always work hard to take care of you.
He'll always love you, too, no matter what.
He's strong and handsome.
You're in good luck if you look anything like him.
I hope you learn from him and learn to love him, too.
He's a kind, generous, and encouraging man.
I look up to your dad, and I hope some day you do, too.
