Dear Breanna, Where has the time gone?
I was thinking just today about that not so long ago past, when you, with the red, fly away hair, and your blond headed brother, Benjamin, were just toddlers.
“If you’re happy and you know it then your face will surely show it!” we’d all sing together. We would get all mixed up with the sequence: clap your hands, touch your toes, stomp your feet and then we’d all break out in to the silly giggles.
You and Benjamin are about the closest I will ever have to my own children, so it looks, especially at this late date. But, I am blessed to say you are both part mine.
I knew that when you sang along with me at the top of your lungs, whether it be children’s fun songs or John Mayer or FloRida or Flascal Ratts (or was it Rascal Flatts?) or the GooGoo Heads or Dolls or Dan+Shay or whoever they all are. You inherited your mother’s love of music.
I was also very impressed with your vocabulary and dramatic flair when I came in from work one day.
Breathless, you proceeded to tell me that you were listening to Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 singing track three and you and Benjamin were jumping on the bed, when Benjamin just “grabbed hold of my arm and just absolutely wrenched my hand.” While it sounded very serious, we concluded you weren’t injured.
The evidence you are part mine was reinforced when you traipsed off with me on adventures to the Coleman and the Big Satilla Creeks, to Grandma’s fish ponds to feed the fish and look for turtles and when we went to visit old home places, old cemeteries and old churches. We once had one of the Griffin kin folks guide us through the Okefenokee at Folkston.
I’ve always loved you. I knew that from the first time I held you at Wayne Memorial Hospital in Jesup a few yesterdays ago. You were about like a football I could tuck in the crook of my elbow.
Honestly, that’s where the football references basically end. While Uncle Jason loves football, baseball is your game. I remember the first time we went to a football game. We had barely settled in to our seats when you tugged on my shirt sleeve and said “Uncle Jason, can we go now? Is it over?” The National Anthem hadn’t even been sung yet.
I remember days on the swing set at the community center and afternoons watching the trains rumble by in Folkston.
You’ve always been compassionate, a little sassy and independent.
I see your namesakes, Anna Tyre Rogers and Roanna Rogers Deal, in you. You swing your arms like Granny Rogers. Your laugh and your height you got from Grandma Deal.
You never wanted anyone to rock you. And of course, there is always the reaction when you got upset. The first time it happened, you came marching into the living room hand on your hip and declared, “I go to bed!” And you did. Perhaps that’s a good lesson for all of us. When life upsets you, go to bed. It’ll be better in the morning.
You did things in your own way and on your own terms.
You graduated as salutatorian of your high school class and went on to earn your bachelor’s degree in business.
And then there was this guy. You first told me about him when we were sitting at Southern Roost in Blackshear over a year ago. I could tell by the way you talked about him and said his name that he would be the one.
I was there when he proposed to you on the beach at sunset at St. Augustine last summer.
I thought back to the song of those long ago days.
If you’re happy and you know it, your face will surely show it.
It did then. It does now. Happy wedding day sweetheart.
I wish you and Will a life time of love and happiness.
I will always love you more than you’ll ever know.
Love, Uncle Jason
