There are so many days I feel I have nothing more to write about, like I have said all I need to say. Days when I feel I have said too much, and days I feel like I have said nothing at all. This week has been filled with those days, until this morning. When I woke up at my usual early hour I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. I stood there and looked at me, I looked at this man, this son, this brother, this husband, this father in the mirror. I have told Kelli that when I look in the mirror I still see, or imagine, the guy I was in high school, I try so desperately to see myself at eighteen years old. This morning was different, this morning was the truth. You see, a mirror has no soul, no heart, it has no filter. The mirror was not brought into this world or born, with a sin nature to lie like all humans. The only lies a mirror tells are the ones we tell ourselves when we look into our own eyes. A mirror knows only one thing, and one thing only, the truth. It shows the exact reflection of what is staring into it. In most cases the mirror is used for grooming, shaving, makeup, or checking the clothes or outfit you have decided to wear for the day. How many times have you looked into a mirror and actually looked yourself in the eyes? How many times have you stood there and let the mirror tell you the truth? For me the answer was not many until Lindsay passed away. Now, today, it happens very often. I look into my own eyes and ask, “Could I have been a better father? Could I have been more supportive? Could I have been more understanding? and the hardest question of all “Why?” The answer to all of those questions, with the exception of why, is yes. With Lindsay’s passing, the student became the teacher. All the life lesson’s I tried to teach her during her short seventeen years are nothing compared to what she is teaching me each time I look into my own eyes. She is teaching me to be a better father, be a better husband, son, and brother. To be more giving and be more compassionate. She has taught me these things because we are never promised tomorrow, never promised the next hour, the next minute or even second. We never know when will be last time we see someone we dearly love. This simple accessory, this inanimate object that we hang on a wall is used mainly for our own vanity. This simple piece of silver coated glass cannot speak even the simplest of words, but more times than not it has the loudest voice of all, if you just listen with your eyes.

I look into my own eyes and I try so hard to see Lindsay, I look at my face and try to see her, but she is not there. There is nothing about my features that even remotely resemble her, or her me. For a moment that brings a sadness over my old and tired face. Then I look harder, I look deeper, I look in places most people are afraid to look, especially when they have lost a child, and that is where I find her. I look in my heart of hearts and the depths of my soul and I find her every time. For me that is where a part of her lives now, there is where I need to go to see her, to talk to her and to remember her smile. Now, every time I look into a mirror and look deep into my own eyes, the mirror goes past my face, past my features and straight to where Lindsay lives in me. It allows me to see her reflection in me.