Every night I lie in bed. Closing my eyes I replay the album of memories I have with you.

Looking back to every summer I spent with you. Your smile. Sitting on the porch without a word. The silence we exchanged watching the hummingbirds. Watching the sports channel while you explained every move to me. The way you would read the newspaper everyday. In the same order. Back to front. Reading on the couch together. Our conversations that would last for hours.

It was never hello or how are you doing… it was always a welcoming question about my horses. My poppy took great interest in my riding. To this day I still laugh over the day my grandma and grandpa came to pick me up from my lesson. Riding a spooky pony named Skittles. In the viewing room behind the glass they stood. As I looped the ring again the tap against the window had me in the dirt. He didn’t know better… all he wanted was for me to see he was there. I was 9 years old, and it still seems like yesterday.

My poppy is my hero. It was the little things he did that ment the most to me. Our relationship wasn’t like most. It was different. He was, and still is my inspiration everyday. To be the best I can be in everything I do.

I cherish the time I spent with him. Though, I regret the time I could have been there but wasn’t . He was on hospice for 3 years. In those three years I witnessed the changes his body developed. The changes in his mental and emotional health. The change from week to week for 3 years. We all knew the time would be here soon. The doctors were amazed by how long he had lived with his conditions. He battled with the terrible disease COPD for a good portion of his life.

It wasn’t until this year that he became really sick. It was the hardest for me to walk into the house. I felt as though my eyes were going to burst with tears at any moment. Biting my tongue to keep in in. I didn’t want him to se me crying. My poppy was slowly slipping away. Our conversations no longer existed, and he lost interest in reading the newspaper.

Then it came to the point where he could no longer leave his bed. It killed me inside to see him in this state of depression. He was in pain, and there was nothing I could do to help him. His memory became a blur, and he didn’t want company.

I began spending every day I could sitting in a chair beside him. We did not say a word. It was the silence we shared that spoke the conversation. The look in his eyes ate away at my heart.

It was March 31^st . The day I will never forget. The memory I will always have. I was reading my book beside him when he began to speak to me. He used all the breathe he had in his lungs to tell me how much he loved me. How proud he was of me, and that I was going to go places. He told me he would always be with me no matter where I am, or what I do. He told me not to cry because it would be ok. Also, to remember him as healthy. Not laying in a bed without ability to move.

That night he woke, and wasn’t there all the way. He rambled on about me. He was talking about the blue ribbons I was going to win in the show with my pony Blaze. I know he loves me. Those were the last words he said. Those words were about me. I know I was in his thoughts that night. That’s what means the most to me.

It was April 2^nd. Monday morning. He passed. One journey had ended and another began. He is now in heaven where he can run, dance, and fill his lungs with air.

I am so relieved to know he is no longer in pain. I have a guardian angel. I will always love him. Remembering every moment I spent in his presence. His voice. And those words he said to me. He is and always will be my hero.