I picture your grandma walking with you around our property, embodying patience and grace as she watches you toddle around, stopping to explore and examine every. single. thing. 

Are there seasons in Heaven, Norah? Do you get to feel the heat of summer sun on your skin or be refreshed by a deep breath of crisp fall air? Do you get to make snow angels in the winter that provide a place for the first blades of springtime grass to peek through? 

How was Thanksgiving in heaven, baby girl? 

Did your grandma trace your ten tiny fingers, transforming each precious hand into colorful feathers atop a gobbling turkey? Is heaven’s fridge door covered with your creations? 

Did the savory aroma of that decadent meal being prepared persuade you sneak a couple before-dinner bites? 

Speaking of dessert, your Grandpa Green will want to know: do they use cool whip on pies in heaven? And does Jesus prefer pumpkin or pecan?

As the dust begins to settle after these wild weeks of moving in, we’re letting our to-do lists slow  and are relaxing into new routines. 

But we’re finding that this slower pace is revealing more of the empty spaces, more of where you should be – but aren’t. 

How is it already August? Summer is flying by.

July was a big month for our family and you made your presence known every step of the way. 

Sweetheart, just like grief isn't hindered by state lines, neither are you. Because of your fierce personality even after death, it was clear that we were on a family road trip — not just your daddy and I.

Your Grandma worked in Glacier Park for 5 summers, and it quickly became her favorite place on earth.

After being there for a week, it was easy to see why.