This evening, while sitting outside on a patio watching the sun set over Table Rock Lake, I saw the most rare of all optical phenomena. Even more rare than the much storied "green flash." I witnessed a Peanut Flash. It lasted for just a moment, a second - far too fleeting but very real in my heart.
It happened while Dadda was out of Momma's line of sight, far down a hill trying to snap some sunset pictures. I was seated alone, enjoying the post-dinner music and advancing sunset, and reflecting on how empty, how meaningless life feels without you. In the distance, I could see the marina glowing in the orange evening sun. A glorious but sorrow-filled moment.
As the sun was getting ready to touch the water, I spotted it. It took my breath away, to the point I am sure I audibly gasped. There they were. A Dadda walking towards the marina with his little boy, holding hands. They looked exactly like you and Dadda, with the same build, same walk, same everything. And, in that moment I thought, "I DID dream it all. Peanut is still here!" But then, it was gone. The sun faded, and Dadda came into my peripheral vision, alone.
From the moment we arrived at Big Cedar Lodge, I have felt you in the air. You have been startlingly present, and tonight was further reinforcement that you are here, by our sides, in each moment. While it doesn't come anywhere near getting to see, touch or hold you again, I have found so much healing, so much comfort in this trip knowing you are with us.
Peanut, I hope you can hear and feel all the love pouring from me and Dadda. We talk about you with joy, tears, adoration, respect, and a profound sense of love...and loss. We love you so very much, it has redefined in the best way possible our sense of "love." And it is that amazing sense of love we send off to you tonight, with a giant MWAHHHHH! To the moon and back, sweet 'Nut.