Dear Josh, 

I look for you every day.  I know that is so stupid, and I end up depressed and angry at myself for even looking.  I check MySpace.  I search Facebook.  I google your name.  Who knew so many people have your name.  Sometimes I think I’ve gotten lucky, until I enlarge the picture, and its not you.  Again.
 

I miss you every day.  So long now, without a word.  I know I was harsh with you at the end.  I was so tired.  Tired of bailing you out of trouble, tired of waiting to see you at the jail, tired of mailing money to your commissary account, tired of you lying, tired of you sneaking out of the house.  I was tired of being afraid to come home, and tired of being afraid to leave.  I was tired, but I never stopped loving you, and believing you could be someone great.

 

When it rains, I wonder and pray that you are somewhere dry, and warm, and have your belly full.  I pray that you know I love you.  That I miss you.  That I am lonely without you. 
  I hide sadness at Christmas because you aren’t there.  That I don’t even have an address where I can send a card.  I don’t have a phone number.  Your old e-mail address has been returning my letters for years.  It says the account no longer exists.  I have you’re last e-mail saved, and I read it often.

 

I wonder…do you think of me at all?  Do you do something, and then suddenly remember that I taught you how to do that…or see a book, and remember me reading it at home?  Do you see someone with a similar build, or a similar hair cut, and think and hope for just a second that its me?  I have gray in my hair now.  I blame you and your brother for every silvery strand.  I look for you at the grocery store, at the gas station…everywhere.  I know its stupid, last I heard from you, you were 500 miles away.  So many miles and years.

 

I lay in my bed at night, and I sometimes sob with missing you.  I say a prayer for your happiness and health every night of my life, and I look for you.  I miss you.  I love you.  You forgot to take your sandals when you slipped away that night.  I have them in a box under my bed.  I have your baseball glove too.  I have some pictures of you taken in the yard, and one of you on that ugly sofa, curled up with the cat.  You are frozen in time for me.  But times moves on, leaving silver tracks through my hair, and lines on my face like roads on a map.  All of the Indiana cats have died.  Bashful died in my arms last Winter.  I have a little dog now, believe it or not.  I still have the old Rabbit convertible.  I drive it all summer. Its 26 years old, and still going strong. The silver Cadillac died four years ago.  I have a gold one now.  Mamaw Lucy and Papaw Dennis bought the house…I live a few miles down the main road in a rental, and will be moving back to Indiana this year. Papaw Dennis survived throat cancer. I will look harder for you there, knowing that’s where you were last.  I will always look for you.
 

I need you to remember…a Father’s love is like a river.  It’s deep and calm and steady sometimes, and sometimes its a raging rapids…but it doesn’t ever STOP.  I guess I’ll keep praying, and I will always look for you.

Michael