I have a bookmark in my Bible that has this picture and beginning sentence:

“Dennis Richard Dietz, born December 26, 1945…”

It goes on to describe some of what he meant to me and the rest of his family. I look at the bookmark almost daily, and remember more about him and our life together every time. A person’s whole life cannot fit on a bookmark.

What I sit with on this day, Dennis’s birthday, is that our paths were in God’s hands all the time. He knew our moves before we made them. He brought us together.

I don’t know why he fell prey to Lewy Body dementia, but I do know he chose to view it the way he did – sometimes fighting it, trying to understand it, living with it in a form of acceptance while observing its progress in his body. He chose the path that led to his stroke. Most of the choices after that were not his, although he assented to the ones he could understand.

But today is not about his death. It’s about his birth, what a cute little guy he was as a child, what a studious young person he became, what a meticulous professional he was. His ways, his smiles, his silliness, his sternness, his peculiarities are all still in the minds of those who knew him.

Today, I miss him a lot. I think he would like knowing that he’s missed. He was such a good man.