From the very start you spoke A language that I knew— Of dreams and plans and possibilities, Of building something new. You'd tell us every detail, Every project on your mind. Long after your Dad lost interest I'd gladly stay behind. Sometimes even I would smile And think we'd surely end... Then you'd remember one more thought, And we'd begin again. Those conversations were a gift, The kind that's hard to find I'll treasure every memory, We made over so much time. Some people build with lumber, Some build with dreams instead. You always saw tomorrow Where others saw the end. And every hope we talked about Felt possible somehow... I loved to hear your music Ringing through the Logan house. Sometimes you'd sit at the piano, Close your eyes and simply play. The whole house seemed to breathe a sigh As your music filled the day. You played by ear and with your heart— A remarkable, God-given gift. Those ordinary afternoons Are treasures time can't lift. The first years passed through email While you served the Lord away. Then we flew to bring you home— A long-awaited day. An Alaskan celebration, College, marriage and a family Watching life unfold before you, So many dreams yet to be You'd stop by just because... To visit for a while. We'd cheer from crowded bleachers, Watch your children laugh and smile. Properties and future plans, The shop we'd someday share... Not because I'd work beside you, But because family dreams were there. Your dad would work beside you, Creating with his hands. I'd love hearing how your dreams took shape As all we'd hoped was planned. Building more than just a workshop, Walls of metal, wood and stone... We were building shared tomorrows, A future of our own. Somewhere the melody grew quiet. Somewhere plans were laid aside. The future we had pictured Turned and took another tide. I still don't understand it all, Perhaps I never will... But gratitude is stronger Than the sorrow standing still. Thank you for the miles we shared, The projects and the plans. For every game, each visit home, And Oh... those helping hands. For every song upon the keys, For every dream we'd see... Thank you for the gift you were, And all you've been to me. Some people come into our lives And change the song we sing. You filled our years with wonder, With faith and discovering. The music isn't finished, Though this movement reached its end. I trust the Master Composer Still holds it in His hands. And when I think about you, My heart returns somehow... Not first to all the heartache... But to a young man At the grand piano, And the joy Of listening... and loving you.
