If I could make you tea

what would I say? What would we chat about? Would I ask you all about heaven and what God really looks like? Would I beg for details on the heavenly choir? Would I ask you who you've met and what you've done? Would I tell you how great you look? How strong and whole you look? Would I ask you if you remember me like I remember you? Would I tell you tale of how I met a boy and how I managed to graduate from University with a 4.0 graduating average? Would we take our tea for a walk? Would you like to stretch your legs or do you get a lot of exercise in heaven? Would I share with you the excitement of learning how to wakeboard, the last Harry Potter movie or the fact that our hockey team is going to win ol' Stanley this year? Would I tell you about my hockey team and how it is shaping up to be the best season yet? Maybe I would tell you about the job that I got and how wonderful the people are that I work with and ask you about your most favourite job?

Would we sit in silence and simply sip our tea, doing nothing more than enjoying each others company once again?

Or would you want to hear about what is really going on and how I'm doing? Would you cut down my "I'm good" with a hearty, "I know you're lying, what is really going on?"? Would I be able to tell you how it sucks because in theory, it should get easier to miss someone. But you, seem to be the exception? Would I share with you how painfully horrid the last year has been because it was mom and dad's 25th wedding anniversary, and when everyone was having a grand ol' time, someone asked about you and where you were? Could I tell you about trying to do everything I could to help Gramma celebrate her 70th birthday without you by her side? Or what about the 50th wedding anniversary that also would have been this year? Would you be open to listening to me cry about all the "what could have beens" over the past 3 years and how, time after time, I screwed them up - with exponentially increasing amounts of mistakes and never learned until after the fact - how incredibly wrong I was, both about myself and the situation?

Whatever the case might be, when the strained tea begins to pour out in our cups signalling the empty pot, I would stop talking. And there I would sit, on the side of the hill, and hug you until you had to go. Because really, that's all that matters. Is that everything else aside, you know that you are loved and missed and thought of often. And in all truth, no one really needs words to express that.

Until the next time, Cheers Grandad!