(Continued)

Daddy, it's getting late and yet still so early - I have to go now, just for the moment.  Before I do, there's but one more thing.  Something I also want to share with you, something I feel you more than deserve.  You have a grandson, you know - his name is Eric.  Such a good little boy.  He's got a great laugh, this kid.  In a few days he will be six years of age.  And though he's rather distant for the moment, visiting his mom and the rest of his family, he still seems so close as if right by my side. 

We talk of you often, and will always do so.  He thinks of you in terms of "daddy's daddy," reflecting upon those many things that it's my turn to teach.  And if there's anything I'd like to pass on, it's what it is to be a daddy...  and what it is to be a son.  And I know that if you were here today, he'd jump in your lap the first chance that he'd get, hug you close, be receptive to all that you are. 

Someday, far in the future, wherever you may be, high over those hilltops we'd often look upon but never scale, I pray he has the chance to meet you. 

I love you, daddy.  I always will.  And though you're long since gone and naught but a visage many would say seems so impossibly distant... 

God be with you. 

I rest knowing he surely is.