It’s hard to describe a laugh to someone who’s never heard it.
His was the laugh like an oak tree’s leaves dancing in the wind.
His was the laugh of shining blue eyes and a tilted head.
His was the laugh of talking and talking for hours, losing track of time.
His laugh belonged to the spring of Spring, when the trees were budding in pastels and the air seems a bit brighter, the ground a bit firmer, the world a bit braver.
His was the laugh that loved honey lemonade on the porch in the summer while the sky is filled with the colors of fire and of peace and of glory.
His was the laugh of a perfect prom draped with roses and brimming with dances and dreams.
His was the laugh of sweet carmel candies, wild flowers, and love’s first kiss.
His was the laugh of a wedding in a small, quiet chapel full of old pews and frightening bees.
His was the laugh of a wedding ring, thought lost and fallen down the drain, only to be found in Sparky the dog’s mouth.
His was the laugh of waves crashing against the rocks, spraying us with their salty mists.
His was the laugh of overjoyed shouts and excited phone calls when we found out our family was finally going to be made complete.
It’s hard to describe a laugh to someone who’s never heard, my son. But now he’s gone, I’ll try my best so you can know him and his laugh.
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