Saturday night I drove in to the Walmart parking lot and saw a familiar scene. A goodbye. There was no mistaking this. It was a sad goodbye. I guessed it was a grown daughter saying goodbye to her mom. Both were distraught. They were standing by the car, tears streaming down. The doors of the car were open and the others in the car were waiting, witnesses to that inevitable last hug.

Since I can remember, I've hated the whole idea of saying goodbye. I'm so awkward and admittedly overly emotional about it. I thought about driving over to join in the group hug with the mom and daughter. I thought about buying them all popsicles to help sooth the sting of goodbye. I thought about when I said goodbye to my son Brett one year ago, when I was young and silly and two years naively seemed like forever.  

It's been one year of so many firsts. One year of the good and the bad. One year of praying for him, writing him, hanging on his every word, and documenting the moments that should never come around again.

When Brett left, I spent the first few days reminding myself of all the bad things that made Brett such a punk - it kinda helped me not miss him so much. I consoled my aching heart by saying; "well, at least I don't have to listen to his day and night, non-stop hipster music anymore - or his whistling...that dang monotone, whistling!"

So what do I miss most about him? Yep, you guessed it.

Here is a look at our one year (set to Brett's hipster music of course!)

Read Brett's mission letters and updates HERE 


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