I hope Heaven is treating you well.


I hope Heaven is treating you well.

Four years ago, around this time, I moved home from college after my senior year to finish off one more semester in the fall. I didn't want to walk; I just wanted that diploma and to move on with my life. You encouraged me to because it's such a significant accomplishment -- and I most likely rolled my eyes and said yeah yeah.

Four years ago, you were making trips to Gertens to freshen up our yard for the summer, starting your hay bail garden, planting the new hydrangeas, and spreading fresh mulch.

Four years ago, if someone told me you were going to Heaven, I would have laughed, thinking they were crazy.

If someone told me June 10, 2017, I would wake up to my mom coming into my room and saying, "your Dad didn't come home last night, and it's your brother's grad party this morning, so I need your help" I would have thought it was just a nightmare.

The truth is we have been living this nightmare for four years now. June 10 I never thought I would be calling your phone, and it was going straight to voicemail "Troy Johnson."

June 10, I never thought we would have to tell everyone who came to Connor's grad party that morning that you got called into work when behind that fake smile, we were worried as hell that our nightmare was beginning.

Were you in a car accident? Did something happen when you went out for errands? Or the errands we thought you were running?

The minute we heard that they found your car and 1 1/2 hours away on our hunting land, we knew we were in our nightmare, one we couldn't wake up from.

In the minute, we got the call from the Sheriff saying they found you. The minute I ran straight to our butterfly garden and cried, asking God why? Just as I was rebuilding my faith... why the hell does this happen?

The minute our community gathered around for us when I was getting healthier mentally. I had a panic attack weeks ago, and you gave me the biggest hug telling me to breathe and that in the morning, I will wake up to a new day, you will bring me to work to serve in the morning. It will all be okay.

Four years ago, for some reason, I do not know if I will ever see you were needed, and wherever you were needed and are now, they needed you more.

Wherever you are now, the grass is greener (no crabgrass growing or moles digging up your lawn).

The grass is freshly mowed with your new zero turn. The perennials are blooming brighter, and the bonfire stays lit.

Wherever you are now, you know we are doing alright; we have our moments where we curse up to the sky, get angry that we are going through this.

Wherever you are now, you will watch from above as Ben walks me down the aisle to marry the love of my life. Connor officiating the wedding, and know we have so many wonderful people looking out for us.

Wherever you are, I hope Heaven is treating you well.