Last night I told Gabriel I missed you and he asked if you were still dead and I said yes. He said it's been a very long time since we saw you. He then asked a lot of questions about death and I tried to explain without scaring him. And I told him how much you loved him and wanted to be a great grandfather to him. You wanted to take him out to get haircuts, and ice cream, and to go see trains. You loved trains as much as Gabriel does. I wish you could see us now, wish you could know the new people we've met. I wonder what you'd advise me to do, job-wise, life-wise, etc. I miss having you in my life. I miss the looks on your face when you were lost in thought, and how you'd carry your radio on your shoulder and listen to NPR early in the morning, in sweatpants, with a small towel on your shoulder too, for some reason. How precise you were in making coffee, how you had a very refined method and "friends" to help you. I miss seeing you sit cross-legged on the ground, doing some kind of fix-it task or polishing your shoes. And whistling, often. The sounds of Papa early on a weekend morning were so normal, so reassuring.