Everything is empty. The house, the air, our minds. You no longer make us laugh, plan out your garden or come home and tell us stories from work. They say time heals all, but how does time heal a loss so big? We are empty.

I know where you are is better. I know you must love the way the ocean looks from Heaven, and how you can see every plane land from so high above. I know you’re probably enjoying a glass of wine. You finally get to see your parents again -- I know it’s been a while. We are grateful that you no longer have to suffer. But we are empty.

If there’s anything I want you to know up in Heaven, it's that I cherish every moment we got to spend together, for they were many. But those moments aren't over now, they're just going to be different, because I promise I’ll save you a seat.

I’ll save you a seat when your granddaughter graduates from high school this year. I know how proud you would be to watch her a walk across that stage.

I’ll save you a seat by your garden so you can care for it like you did for over 30 years. Thirty years of string beans and tomatoes that only you could grow fresh.

I’ll save you a seat on the Fourth of July. I know it was your favorite. You loved cookouts and the sun probably more than me. I know where I get it now.

I’ll save you a seat at the dinner table where I’ll play over in my head how you always told me to eat more food and shake your head when the only thing I ate was pasta.

I’ll save you a seat at Christmas so you and Nonnina can get up and dance around the room.

I’ll save you a seat on the couch during soccer matches, even though you were usually standing and yelling at the TV the majority of the time.

I’ll save you a seat when we take the boat out. You always smiled when were on the ocean.

I’ll save you a seat when I pour a glass of wine, knowing you’ll be sitting right there with me. We never got to have a glass of wine together so I look forward to the comfort of knowing you would be there.

I’ll save you a seat when we go to Italy. If there’s any place you wanted to be, I know it was there.

I’ll save you a seat at your grandchildrens’ weddings. You would’ve beamed with pride knowing they’ve found lifelong happiness. You should know we’re modeling our forever love story on the one you had with Nonnina.

I hope you’ll save me a seat, someday, so we can talk about the life I’ve lived, you can ask me questions about your phone and we can see Italy from up above. I already have so much I want to say, but I guess I’ll tell you the next time I save you a seat.