I know exactly what you’d be wearing. Where you’d be sitting. The suit you’d be sporting and one of three ties you’d be wearing. Who you’d be talking to. How your hands would be positioned and how you’d hold your drink. Those subtle moves on the dance floor. I know exactly how you’d smell and what you’d love and laugh about. I know the side-eye you’d flash us when we were being inappropriately slap happy. How we’d be talking to only each other and you’d tell us to go mingle and meet someone new. Like a magnet we’d be drawn to wherever you are. Our anchor. 

All the brother-in-laws endearingly took turns swinging Mara’s car seat to rock her to sleep, without asking, without making a fuss. You’d be the first one in line to help too (and not just to get out of dancing). 

Having Mara with us almost felt like she was holding the empty space for you. Her blue eyes looking curiously about, the way she feels comforting and safe. The way we’re drawn to her calming energy.

She’s one of Poppi’s angels. Her and Stratt, so far.

We too are holding space for you, Dadio, and if only for a second, a glance, a tiny moment of remembering and knowing; it feels like you are there.