Dylan Stafford

You snuck up on me today Lisa, in church this morning. You left me crying in the scripture reading, Matthew 17: 1-9.

Yesterday, Jackson came home after being away for five weeks as a camp counselor, the longest we’ve ever been apart in his sixteen years of life. We picked him up in the morning, tall (taller?), leaner, a shaggy head of red hair and a first-ever strawberry-blonde moustache perched on his upper lip.

We hung out with two other families we know and their sons. All three boys had been co-counselors and also cabin mates. All three looked a bit wild, a sign of a great summer camp.

We all parted and our family came home. Our two dogs greeted Jackson with wagging delight. Jackson showed me what he had learned about bike repair, as he worked in the bike shop all five weeks, and led mountain bike trips for the scouts in his charge.

We had dinner out followed by family movie night at home. I fell asleep of course.

And today, I woke up at my usual 4:30am. I zoomed at 5:00am with my favorite 12-step meeting.

I walked the dogs with my bride, talking and sharing and staying in sync with our full life. I cooked eggs with spinach and avocado and parmesan for our younger son while Jackson slept in.

Then we roused all four of us to come over to Santa Monica for the 9:30 service at St. Monica’s. We arrived early and got good seats down front. We listened to the pre-music. I reflected and prayed. I was sitting with Marisa on my right and Christian and Jackson on my left. With both arms extended, I could touch my entire family, all at once, for the first time in five weeks.

And that’s when you came to me Lisa.

Yesterday, Jackson asked me to measure his height. I did. He’s a solid six-foot, two-and-a-half inches tall. It’s so satisfying, looking up at him. He’s the only biological child I will get this lifetime. I have two blessed sons. I am overpaid.

But here, this morning, in church, touching my whole family, the wonder came over me.

“What if Marisa and I had been blessed to also have a daughter?”

“Might she have been tall, the way Jackson is tall?”

“Might she, our angel daughter, have been tall the way you were tall?”

And that was then the tears flowed Lisa, before the end of the scripture reading, wondering if our daughter might have looked even a little bit like you.

What if she’d had a hint of you in her face or her manner? What if she’d had long, slender, beautiful hands like you had?

What if we’d had a daughter who was even a bit of an echo of you, walking this earth and reminding us of you physically?

Beautiful tears flowed down both my cheeks.

I am blessed. I work for God and I am over paid.

You gave me the gift of sobriety Lisa, twenty-plus years ago, and it still blesses me everyday spiritually.

I don’t have a daughter to remind me of you Lisa.

But you walk this road of happy destiny with me every day regardless.

Thank you for visiting me today, my beloved sister.

Amen.