Past & Present - Imperfect

Today is
Today was
Today would have been 
On this day, December 8, in the year 1952, Robert F. Klett was born. It's a day that's been marked with a celebration for the last 63 years, commemorating his entrance to the world. 
On this day, December 6, in the year 2016, Robert F. Klett, is gone; he died on March 10, 2016 just before midnight. So this is the first December 8 without Bob here to celebrate.

Facebook remembers. A lot.

We've already felt his first absence from birthdays (he so would've crawled through here with her!),

trick-or-treating,

and Thanksgiving day cuddled on the couch or enjoying the brisk air.

In just a few short weeks, we'll spend our first Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day, and New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day, and a whole entire year, without Bob. It's interesting because I'm so entrenched in a time when firsts tend to be happy occasions: first smile, first tooth, first word, first steps...every brand new start with my little girl is cause for celebration. Her first celebrations, even (especially?) those in hindsight become slightly less joyful when realizing that many of her beginnings were many of Bob's endings.

 We decorated our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, and the event of course included the traditional lugging of the boxed-up ornaments down from the attic. Many of our ornaments, and definitely our favorite ones, are those that Mom and Bob made for us less than two years ago.

And then there's the tree topper, which we didn't have because we could never find one we loved...until Grace, Mom, and Bob made us one together. Bob shaped and cut it out while the ladies decorated it. When we pulled it from the tissue paper a few weeks ago and held it out to Grace, she thought it was beautiful. She was also a bit mystified, though, because when we told her that she'd made it with Mom-mom and Pop-pop...she didn't remember crafting it with them.

 I suppose this post is my present for Bob today. It's true that he's not here to celebrate. But I think I screwed up earlier when I said he's gone; he isn't gone. He's here in the goofy pictures he took and in the gorgeous woodworks he created and in the New Jersey Bob-isms that no one else could think up (or comprehend). I know that I can't keep him as vivid forever; like all memories, and all voices, and all people, he'll soften over time. But even as the edges blur, he'll be here because we won't ever completely let him go. 

I love you, Pop-pop. ❤️