That Hasn't Changed

"A million times we've needed you. A million times we've cried. If love could only have saved you. You never would have died."

September 22 has rolled around again. Two years ago today, at 7:45 in the morning, I got the call I had been dreading for months. After a call the night before, I knew what my mom would say that morning, so I almost didn't answer, thinking that I could go a few more hours before I had to know that Mr. Franklin was gone.

I remember thinking last year on this day that the firsts were over. And I was right. But do you know what wasn't over? The seconds. And the thirds. And the rest of life as it continues on.

I think about him every day. On some days, it seems normal to do so. Like on sheep sale weekend. And during state judging week. Or when I read certain books. But some days, it's completely random. When my toe hurts after running and I pick up the phone because he would know what to do. When I leave my parents' house and almost automatically turn left at the highway to head for his house without thinking. When I drive by the Frontier Restaurant or the Red Roof Inn or I order orange juice at the restaurant and feel guilty if I don't drink it all. When I'm cleaning out my fridge. I think those random memories....the ones that only a select handful of people would even understand...are my favorite.
I came across this picture at some point in the last year. Roswell pig show...Little Brother and I watching the sift, and Mr. Franklin watching over our shoulders. I realized that I spent a big part of my life with Mr. Franklin watching over my shoulder making sure I did things right. I'd like to think that hasn't changed.