Your Work on Earth

Hi Dadaloo. I called your work again today. This time I talked to Brenda, not just some guy who never even knew you. She thinks your stuff may all still be there hanging on the walls in your office.

As soon as I heard her voice I burst into tears. Poor Brenda. I couldn't even explain why. Maybe because it was nice to hear the voice of someone who knew you and loved you too, because I remember calling you at work and talking to her, because she said they had all just been talking about you this week, because she asked about the boys and it reminded me of how proud you were of them and how many stories you made them listen to about them, because I know that you still had it in your head that you were going to go back to work there.

Or maybe because it reminded me that you were here. You were here and now you're not and I miss you so bad. And because if I go down there to get your stuff I know the pictures of the boys will be of them so young, and there won't be any of Abbey and Hannah. Or Nathaniel. And it hurts that you've missed so much already.

Probably because of all of those things all at once. But now I can't stop crying.

It still seems like a huge mistake that you're not here with us. Working for a living. Coming home with crazy stories about something the new guy did. And putting up new pictures of your grandkids in your office at the grain terminal.

Sad

I really thought we'd bring you home Dad. I had this scared feeling all the time that this might be the last... Time at our house, time you drove away... All kinds of times. But I always told myself I was being silly, that we'd bring you home from Seattle. At least that.

And it bothers me so much that we didn't. I feel like somehow we let you down. I know you wanted to come home so badly. I know you stayed and fought for us. But I remember you crying at the hospital the day before you died when we talked about you coming home. And I know you'd tell me that I'm being ridiculous, feeling bad that you didn't get to come home one last time, when you're home forever now. It bothers me so much though.

All of that time bothers me, the time after you left for Seattle. It bothers me that sometimes I cut short our phone calls because I couldn't think of anything to say. And it bothers me that I didn't come out earlier because I didn't have enough money to do two trips. It bothers me that I didn't bring Ben, because I know you wanted to see him. It bothers me SO MUCH that Mom and I went grocery shopping the night I got to Seattle. I wasted that first day we got there, and after that you were so sick that I couldn't really talk to you. I want all that time back.

And I want to be able to bring you home. Even though your body came home I feel like we left you behind in Seattle. I wish I could go back there and get you. I want you back so badly.

I miss you. I want my dad.

Birthday Wishes

It's your birthday. It makes me think of all your other birthdays.

The ones you had when you were just a little guy, excited to be another year older. The first ones you had with Mom, before all of us started coming along. The ones when we were bratty teenagers and didn't even remember. The ones when we were slightly less bratty adults, and you were healthy and we all knew there were tons more ahead of us, and we got you silly cards. The one when you turned the big five oh, and we surprised you with a great big party in the "forest".
Look how young and tall you look! (Stupid cancer.)

And then the ones when you were sick, and we hated to think it, but it was always there in the backs of our minds, "This might be the last." It makes me sad that you never finished watching your last birthday present. Which is lame, I know, because of all the things you didn't get to finish... Videos are lame. But I remember that birthday, and I wasn't there, but the rest of you all went out for supper, and Noah ate lots of spaghetti I'm told.

And I miss you so much. I miss taking for granted that you would always be there. Oh man, I miss that. And I miss not staring at your brothers and wondering how I could kidnap them and brainwash them to think that they are my kids' grampas. And I miss hugging you. I would give anything for a hug from you, I think about it all the time, and I shouldn't, because it opens everything up again and turns a healing scar into a gaping wound.

And right now, when I'm not having a very good day, I miss being able to call you or see you and somehow you make it feel better, usually by being a bit of a brat. I miss that.

Today for your birthday, I wish Gramma could make you some chicken noodle soup for lunch and you would call me and slurp it on the phone to bug me. And then you would go out for dinner and I would call you and say I wish I was there, and you would brag about how much time you are spending holding Nathaniel because I'm not there to fight over him with you. (Baby hog.) And then you'd call me from Aunty Susan's hot tub to brag some more, and I'd laugh and hang up on you.

Because, after all, I'd probably talk to you tomorrow when I called Mom to talk about whatever it is Mom and I talk about. (Farm Town probably.)

I'm sure you're having a great birthday, and I'm sure if you could, you'd call me from heaven and brag about the noodles and cake Mavis made for you, and maybe eat a garden cucumber really loudly to rub it in that it's winter here and you can have cucumbers fresh from the garden whenever you want...

But even thinking of all that, I can't help but wish you were here, so that I could tell you, even just over the phone, "Happy birthday Dad. I love you all day, all night, all day, all night, all day, all night... A lot."

Dear Dad

Another new year and I think of you all the time. Miss you so much.

Remembrance Day

Today Angela and I observed remembrance Day. Not only did we remember those who gave so much to our country in war but we most of all remembered you, the one who gave us so much in life. As well as that, we remembered the trenches. We were there with you in that horrible war that took you away from us. All of us who loved you so much each have memories of that battle that we fought right along side of you. Each of us have scars and wounds that we will have for the rest of our days, yet here we are, we live on but we will never forget.



You can see our reflections as if they have been etched into the stone as if we had become a part of the epitaph. In truth we are. We were such a part of who you were just as you were such a part of who we are. In this way you will always be remembered. You will always be a part of who were are. Time itself can not erase this. You will always be remembered by us and when we are gone and time has removed all of us who remember you, we will be with you.

O God, Our Help In Ages Past
Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

O God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast and our eternal home.

Before the hills in order stood or earth received her frame,
from everlasting thou art God, to endless years the same.

A thousand ages in Thy sight are like an evening gone,
short as the watch that ends the night before the rising sun.

Time like an ever rolling stream bears all its sons away,
they fly forgotten as a dream dies at the op'ning day.

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come,
be Thou our guard while troubles last and our eternal home.

Amen

There Is A Hole In My Heart

As September rolls in, I am reminded of you and our last fun days and then the suffering that followed. I am so glad that we had that time together. All that is left are the memories and this big gaping hole. I miss you so much it hurts.

Wishes

Hi Dad,

A year ago we said goodbye. You held Ben and Sam that morning for the last time. And you hugged me, I tried not to cry, but I did a little. You cupped the back of my head and pressed my face into your shoulder and you tried not to cry too. I remember. And I remember trying to tell myself it would be okay. That you would be back. And I watched you drive around the corner in your car for the last time.

Later I went into your house and when I walked in the door I saw your blanket and pillow still out on the couch, just the way you had left it, just the way it always was when you watched TV and fell asleep with the remote in your hand and an iced tea on the floor beside you... It was there waiting for when you came back, and I lay on it and cried. And then I carefully rolled it up and put it away. I told myself I was being dumb. That you would be back to use it, and it wouldn't matter if dog hair got all over it and it had to be washed. But I still rolled it up and put it away. I have it in my room now. I stole it from poor Mom, and I have it in my room still rolled up.

Passing by this day feels a little like I'm losing you again. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just knowing that I'm a whole year away from my last happy times with you. Maybe it's seeing the folders of pictures of you getting further and further away from the new folders I put on my computer. Maybe it's just me, being over-emotional and dumb, as usual.

But I ache for just one more hug. I hurt more every day it seems. Every day that goes by without you calling to eat cucumbers on the phone to bug me, or listen to Ben's latest story, or complain about how I never want to talk to you, I'm always calling for Mom.

Last night I dreamed you came home and we all went camping with you. And we were SO excited that you were back. I hated waking up this morning. I just miss you. In so many ways.

I wish you could be here so I could ask you for advice, and you could make me laugh, and you could take care of Mom, and you could be my boys' hero, and you could spoil princess Hannah, and you could go fishing with Ang, and be the guy who Jonathan and Mikey could always rely on. I wish you were here and we didn't have to face a reunion without you and we could look forward to being with our family the way we used to. I wish you could come home for the weekend the way you did in my dream. Even if it meant waking up the next day to realize you weren't here again, I wish you could come home for the weekend.

Could you maybe ask God if that would be okay? Just this once?

I think tonight I'll unroll your blanket and pillow for a while.

Dear John

Dear John,

Yesterday Becky and I went to pick a memorial stone for your grave. I am glad to have this completed. It was bothering me that to date this had not been done. I am sorry that it took so long but it was very hard for me to do. I think that was because it makes things seem so much more final. As long as this last task was not completed perhaps you could still come home. It is odd how I try to trick my mind, how I try to deny the truth. Even when picking the stone both Becky and I opted to choose one that looked the least like a grave marker, you know the type, the classic RIP stone that is curved on the top. Did you know that it costs extra to have one ordered that does not curve on the top?

I am thinking that if you can read my letter and know what I have been doing that you will be a little miffed with me on how much money I spent. I know this because we talked about this very thing. I am sorry, I had to spend what I did spend to make the stone look less like it was sitting beside a haunted house.

The stone will be etched with majestic pines and has a boat and a guy fishing. It looks just like Ispachaw Lake. What wonderful times we had there. You would get up early in the morning and go out fishing. I would sleep in a little then get up and make breakfast. It was like you could smell the bacon because you would somehow get there just in time. I can picture it all. I can hear the boat motor muffled by the morning mist. I can smell the clean air. I can see you walking up the path, fish dangling on the chain and the huge smile of contentment on your face. How content we were! How truly happy. Life did not get better than that did it? Ispachaw is a magical place. Becky wants us to go there. I told her that I don't think that I can. Just thinking about our times there bring me to my knees.I don't know what being there would do to me.

We kept the inscription simple. It says: Loved A Lot We put that there because you did love everybody so much and because you were also loved a lot. We put it there because to each person, as you lay dying, you told them that over and over. It was how you said goodbye. It said to each one everything that you would have liked to say if you had been able to. It told us how proud you were of us. It told us that you did not mind the sacrifices that you made on our behalf. It told us that you enjoyed being with us every minute that you were and that you did not want to leave. It told us how sorry you were to know the pain we would have to endure. You showed us the very face of love. It was your face. We say back to you: We love you a lot. We love you a lot. We love you a lot. That will never change.

Popsicles and Cuddles

I took this video in the last few minutes of the last time Dad was here at our house. I remember watching him and Mom drive away afterwards. And crying in the driveway. I always cried when they left. Even before Dad got sick. I'm like that. I can't help it.

Now I'm sitting on the couch in the same spot he was sitting and I still find it completely incomprehensible that he's not here and he won't be coming here again ever. I still feel like I've been punched in the stomach whenever I think of him and everything we've lost...

All those wonderfully ordinary moments that everyone else gets to take for granted.

Dear Dad

Fridays are the worst days for me. Right after work, when I get home. I bottle things up all week, to make it through and then I come home every Friday after work and cry. I look at pictures, and watch videos and lay on the couch until I fall asleep. I had a message saved on my voice mail that you left once when you were in the hospital. I think you were bored.

"Angie-weiner, are you there? Let me hear your voice."

I kept the message for as long as I had that number. I thought that one day I might not be able to hear yours and this would be my only way. I don't have it anymore and all I want right now is to chat and hear your voice.

I just sit here and cry and think, I just can't believe this happened. This isn't happening, this didn't happen, how did this happen.

It's just not fair.

Missing You

I've been meaning to post this for a while, and today seems like the day to do it, so for those of you who weren't there, and even those who were...

John Braun left the loving arms of his family to rest in the loving arms of his heavenly Father on Friday October 9, 2009 at the age of 56. He was born in Swan Plain on January 8, 1953 to Abe and Mary Braun. He grew up in the Saskatoon area with nine brothers and sisters, and a large and very close extended family, which made for a boisterous and happy childhood full of love. He met the love of his life, Christine Newson, in 1970 and immediately proceeded to charm her socks off. She was attracted to his love of adventure, his sense of humor, and his sweet nature. They were married June 22, 1974 and immediately got busy filling their home with their four children Becky, Jonathan, Michael, and Angela; creating yet another boisterous and happy home. John was an excellent father whose children filled his heart with joy. He always had time for a wrestle, a hug, or whisker rub.

John worked in the grain handling industry, and spent almost 30 years working at what is now Viterra in Saskatoon. He was involved in his community through coaching, and recreational sports, and he was a member of the Martensville Alliance Church family. He made many dear friends wherever he went and was loved by all, even people he barely knew. He always had time for others and was happy to lend a helping hand. He was a handy guy to have around.

John loved fishing, golf, camping, canoeing, football, tools, and the Maple Leafs, but his biggest love of all was just being a Grampa to Benjamin, Noah, Samuel, Abigail, and Hannah. He was Grampa Extraordinaire, and he lit up with happiness whenever he was with any of them.

John was a devoted follower of Jesus Christ and his greatest desire was that God's love would be made manifest in his life. Which it was.

We love you a lot, we love you a lot, we love you a lot...

I'm Watching You

This is the song that John's brother David wrote and sang at the memorial service. He has now recorded it. It is beautiful. It does make me cry every time I hear it. I am not at the place, like the lyrics say that I won't cry so much but laugh instead. It almost seems that as the days go by, I cry more and more.

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John used to say all the time: "I love you more. I love you today, tomorrow and forever."

From Trav

so, i've been visting the john braun page quite regularily since... yeah. i still hate saying it. i still hate thinking that i played guitar at his funeral. i hate that word. it's ugly. it's so final. i didn't even use it at all until becky asked me if i could play. anyways, that's not what this is supposed to be about. this is supposed to be about memories i have about one of the greatest men to ever grace this earth. i shared a few on my blog on my rememberance day post, and i'll likely over lap that a bit, just with more detail. one of my favorite memories was when i gave him his shirt. i remember how hard mike, uncle john, and i laughed. it was a riot. i'll explain. i had just gotten married about two weeks before this happened. on our honeymoon we headed out west and made our way up and down vancouver island. in our first couple days on the island some friends of ours decided to take us out to do some salmon fishing. well, i won't bore you all with the fish story, although i'm sure uncle john would make me tell it, but i caught a 48 lb chinook salmon. which is a very large fish. knowing full well that this was the biggest fish that anybody i knew had caught, the very first thing i did was grab my cell phone. steve barry, who was also a friend of uncle john's and the guy who had taken us fishing, moved the boat so i could get a cell signal for the call. i dialed uncle john's number before anyone else's, knowing that he would be thrilled and choked at the same time that i caught this monster. i believe that the conversation went something like this.

uncle john (J):hello
trav (t): hey uncle john
j: hey trav
t: so, i think you're gonna hate me.
j:why in the world would i ever hate you trav?
t: because i just caught a 48 lb salmon
j: you did not. you're lying. steve put you up to this, didn't he?
t:nope, no lie, it's huge, biggest thing i've ever seen
j:you're so full of crap trav (all the while laughing of course)
t: i wishi i was uncle john, that would be the best joke ever, but i'm serious!
j: seriously? 50 lbs? no... i don't believe you
t: i'm gonna make you a shirt of this (laughing ensues)
j: no way, you're just gonna photo shop something. there's no way you caught a fish that big. (more laughing)
t: just you wait.

and that was the jist of the converstation... i had a heck of a time totally convincing him that i had landed a monster salmon. so anyways, we went and did all the stuff with the fish that we needed to do, proceeded to walmart to get a couple of white tshirts and headed back to steve and kathy's where we then made tshirts. two of them. one of them for me, with just a picture of the fish and me, the other with the same picture but with a few words added. the words, "my nephew, my hero". well, two weeks later we headed out to martensville, made a stop at his house, i knocked on the door (wearing my shirt of course). i had his shirt hidden at the time. i believe mike answered the door, and was pretty floored when he saw the picture on my shirt. uncle john then quickly made his way to the living room and also was aghast. i believe he mentioned something about wanting a picture of it. at this time i pulled out his shirt. and he laughed so hard. we all did. but the best part? he put it on. and he beamed with pride. from ear to ear. and it made me feel great. and that's what he was all about. he got that from grampa braun. he loved to make other people feel great. and he did a great job of it.

From Becky

Dear Dad,

I walked to the park today. Ben rode his bike. And I missed you so much. You should have seen him Dad. He likes to ride fast now, you would be so proud. And when he rode on the gravel path his tire spun like crazy because of his training wheels. He thought it was awesome. Just like a racecar. I know you would have laughed to see it.

I ran into my friend Staci, who talked to me about the last time she saw you, on the street in front of Heather's house, working on your truck. She said you seemed so healthy and energetic. She remembers your laugh. It made me miss you more, thinking of you working on your truck just down the road from where I was sitting.

Today was hard for me. I'm not sure why. It just really was. I looked through some pictures of this summer, trying to find one in particular. Not of you actually, but of course, there you were. Holding Hannah, fishing with the boys at the zoo, holding Hannah again, driving the U-haul with Ben, and holding Hannah yet again... I know you would have laughed at all the bows I put in her hair today.

I wanted to call you and tell you about how Sammy was missing his new stuffed turtle. (It's name is Sammy the turtle.) He was very upset this morning and told me "It's nowhere to be seen!" You would have laughed at that part.

My friend Staci doesn't think that nothing will ever be wonderful again. I tried to explain to her that I know I can be happy, really joyful again. I know I can. But nothing will ever be the same kind of wonderful again without you here. Every time I get close to wonderful I know I'll wish you were here for it, so even the wonderful will hurt a little. I know she thinks that I just need time, and that I'll get there, but I won't. It's not that I won't let myself, but I know I won't.

Here's something my friend Darcie sent to me about you. I thought it summed you up completely...

I only had the pleasure of meeting your dad a couple of times, but I do remember how "welcoming' he was (even if it was your house). At the time, you were helping me out in a bind and watching my boys. Your parents were down for the weekend, and there was your dad, downstairs playing with the boys - making mine feel like they were just as deserving of his attention as his own grandsons were. I get the feeling he was like that with everyone he met.

That's why Dad. That's why nothing can be as wonderful now that you're gone. It's because you made EVERYTHING so much more wonderful when you were here. For everyone. For people who barely knew you, and SO much more for people who knew you well. We were so lucky.

And even the things you weren't here for... I could look forward to telling you about them later, I would say to myself, "I have to remember to tell Dad about that." And I'd phone you and tell you and hear you laugh, and no matter how wonderful things were without you... They were even more wonderful when I told you about them.

I miss you.

Today I miss you so much.

From Cindi

Uncle John was very special to me. I remember in high school I would always wear toe socks to church and Uncle John would forever harass me about them. I kept telling him I was going to buy him some for Christmas. I don't know whether or not he believed me, but, when he opened his present from me at the Braun gathering that year, he laughed. I can still hear him laughing as he said "Oh Cynthia!" and putting on his socks. I had bought us matching ones and somewhere in my box of pictures I have a picture of us modelling our socks together.
He always called me Cynthia. There are very few people in this world who can call me that without it bugging me. Uncle John always said it in such an endearing way with a hint of a laugh in his voice. It was like we had some sort of secret inside joke that he thought of everytime we talked.

Uncle John knew how to make a person feel special. I remember going to watch Trevor play football with him. I know he went, not because he really cared obout the game, although I know he loved pretty much any football game. He went because I mattered to him. And because Trevor mattered to me, and thus mattered to him too. He told me about how he liked to sit with the opposing teams fans; how much fun he thought it was.
Uncle John loved my kids. You can't do anything that matters more to a mother than love her kids and he definitely did that. Chloe loved all the special hugs from him at church. I remember the first Sunday after having Tristan that we were both at church. He had just finished his last Saskatoon transplant and we had colds. I told him we were sick when he came to meet Tristan but he said I don't care, give me that boy. He hugged him close and said, "Oh Cynthia, he's just beautiful!"

I don't know how to end this, so I'll leave it with this.

I love you Uncle John

From Margaret

I dreamed a few nights ago and John was in it for just a few "frames?" but it reminded me when I woke up about how John became such a great Dad. So I will share the memory.

We were living on the farm. I think it was our first winter there so I would have been 12 and John would have been 15 or just turned 16. It had melted enough for the ditches to be filled with water and then we had a cold snap so all the ditches were covered with ice. We all had skates and went skating along the ditches. We got quite far from home, possibly 2 or 3 miles, when I realized that my feet were cold. The others all wanted to keep going, but John came home with me. We were about half way home when my feet stopped hurting and I told John we could go back if he wanted. he said that we needed to get home and get my skates off. So we did. About 10 minutes after we got home, my feet started to hurt. They hurt so bad I was crying. Since Mom and Dad weren't home John took care of me. He got a basin of water and sat down and rubbed my feet with his hands in the water until they were thawed.

Even before John became a man, he had qualities that showed him to be a good husband and father later in life.

From David

When I found out I was the going to be the donor I was very honoured and glad. Everyone was hoping that it would be me because I was the youngest and would therefore have the strongest and healthiest stem cells which would then give John the best possible chance at beating the cancer. It turned out that it didn't really make any difference at all. The cancer mutated and there was nothing that could be done. So from one point of view, me going to Seattle and doing the donation was kinda pointless. All I really did was throw smoke at a monster. I choose to look at it differently. The time that I spent there is something that I wouldn't trade for anything. Most of the days there I didn't really see John and Chris much till around 4:00 in the afternoon. I would walk to the clinic in the morning, do my blood work and then go and get my stem cell growth shots. After that I was free to wander the city. Which quickly became slightly boring.

John was usually in appointments all morning and then would go home for lunch and a nap. Then back to the clinic for a bit in the afternoon most of the time. I would usually head over at around 3 or 4 and we would sit and watch Mash for a bit. John hated commercials and would always mute the TV during them. Then we would start talking and he would forget that he had done it and the show would come back on and he would sit and watch with no sound and then suddenly realize this and laugh and turn the sound back on. We would have supper and then watch some more TV and visit until around 8:00 and then he would start getting tired, then he would drive me back to the hotel for the night.

I know it doesn't sound very exciting, but it was great. Just visiting and laughing together. Chris got sooooo sick of Mash. I will never be able to watch that show or hear that theme song without thinking of him.

We would often go up on the rooftop deck and watch the boats in the harbour with his binoculars. We would take turns and point out the fanciest and biggest yachts we could find. When we went out on the sailboat tour of the harbor we got to see them a little closer. It was great standing out on the deck of the boat with the wind and rain blowing in our faces. We didn't do it once the boat turned around and went into the wind though. Then it was just a little to cold. We were, after all, "just a couple of stubble jumpers and not old sea dogs" he told me.

These are the memories that I treasure and the reason that, to me, the whole trip was not a waste.

I wrote this song after John left us. I know that he is in heaven and he is watching over us all. I miss you brother...I love you forever.

From Carrie

I remember being little. In some ways, I think this is when I knew my Uncle John the best.

He and my dad worked together at the grain elevator. Most of my interactions with him were sort of a result of a relationship with my parents, but it never felt that way. I always felt important to him. I loved the few times when we would pick up my dad or visit him at work, and Uncle John would be there. He had the best laugh and the best smile. I just loved seeing my Uncle John.

I think probably my fondest memories of him are talking to him on the phone. He would call to talk to my dad, but when I answered, I got to talk to him, too. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I can't remember anything that we specifically talked about; but I remember kneeling in the chair next to the counter on the old corded phone when I talked to him, and especially how much I enjoyed it. And I always had the feeling that he genuinely enjoyed it, too. He wasn't just humoring me. It was never just a "Hey, how're you doing? Great, can I talk to your dad?" He always took the time because he cared. He WANTED to talk to me. He loved me. And I loved him.

That's what it all measures up to: LOVE.

He just had so much love in his heart, for his family, for his friends, for everyone. For Jesus. It was all just so genuine.

He measured his life in love.

From Jen

I remember when we were kids I was often worried about my parents dying. So one day I asked them what would happen to us if that ever happened. Mom told us if it ever did happen that we would come and live with Uncle John and Auntie Chris. I of course mulled over this a lot and to be honest was scared and worried all the more. I did not know them that well and my cousins were all in High School already and so I did not want to go there. But as time went on and I got to know two of the best ppl in the world I knew that if it ever happened we would have been welcomed into there family and treated like one of there own. Because that is just how God made them to be. I will always cherish the moments I had with Uncle John. The hug every sunday. The happy hello. The way he treated Tommy even though Tommy wasn't even his grandkid. He was a great man, ever seeking the heart of God.

From Susan

I have so many good memories of John. From the early years as kids growing up, all the card games at Westveiw Place. Camping trips, backyard fires and being able to attend church with him was a real blessing.

I will never forget this one Sunday morning in church. We were sitting at the back behind John and Chris. The worship team was playing and I looked over at John and he was singing with all his heart and as I watched he started to raise his hands just a bit at his sides. As the song continued Johns hand went higher and higher until they were stretched up as high as they could go. The tears were running down his face as he stood there in total freedom praising his Jesus. John loved his Lord with all his heart, soul, mind and strength. As close as John was to God that day he is soo much closer now and I cannot imagine how he must be enjoying worshiping his Lord and Savior right now. Maybe with his hands raised, or bowing down before Him or sitting in his lap just getting a hug.

One thing I know is it must be sweet! and I am looking forward to someday being able to be there with him and hearing him sing his songs of love to our Jesus.

Until we meet again... I will miss you John.