Dear dude,
It's your birthday! Welcome to your sixty-second year on this planet. We are getting old, are we not?! But then again, I've been saying that you were old and crumbly for at least the past 11 years, so all things considered, you've held up quite well!
Sometimes I worry about the future. That I haven't found a husband, settled down and had babies yet. And while, those are things that I want. The worry isn't entirely for me.
It's because I can't fathom marrying a man who doesn't witness the relationship that you and I have. That I can't stand the idea of bringing babies into this world who don't know their grandfather. My father. The man who has so shaped my being, and shown me the importance of true character. Our character.
The games and the fun. The ingenuity and creativity. The spontaneity, and the flat out, never-give-up-ness, regardless of how you feel, or what is going on around you. How brilliant you are, and how you see beauty in everything, especially music. How you encourage everyone, and you meet them where they are, with what they have to offer.
The love, and the faith that I watch you rely on every day. How you support your family. How you rely on God.
But more than anything else, it's because when you meet important people, and when new people come into your life, you want them to meet your best friend.
You are my best friend.
I love you, I miss you, and I look forward to beating your ass at ping pong on Christmas day, old and crumbly as you are!
Love,
Diz.
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