Dear Roger,
You don't know me, but I most certainly know you. I know your name, your face, your smile, and your family. I know you because I know your 3rd born, Emily. I am so happy to call her my friend and even more elated to call the rest of your family my friends now as well.
I thought I would write you because you are everywhere around here, and I wanted an outsider, a non-Padden, to tell you how much you are still apart of who these glorious people are.
I went to dinner at Andrew and Monica's tonight. I thought I was just bringing Hadley and Finn so they could hang with the family, but your people had something very different in store. I was hugged upon arrival. Not a hug like you hug out of politeness, or because they vaguely knew of me, but come-on-in-we-hear-you-are-like-family kind of hug. There were noises coming from every inch of this well loved home. Andrew and Monica came right in with sarcasm and "lets eat!," that I just felt like I might be in one of the happiest place on Earth.
We all ate around a table that could barley fit us all sharing about Lyla making the beautiful transition to braving extended summer camp. As each of your children, grandchildren, and sweet wife wrote poems, sweet nothings, and words of encouragement to Lyla, I sat back and basked in the love that was surrounding me. For goodness sake, the kid was just going to camp, but what a send off. As Lyla read what Andrew wrote to her, "After all, you are a Padden, and you know what that means, you are: confident, strong, beautiful, kind...." I got teary. Such an outward expression of love and devotion from a father and the beaming pride I saw on your son's face made my heart tingle.
With each note, there was a common theme, Padden-ness. I had heard this said, "Padden-ness" before, but I saw Padden-ness tonight. As your wonderful wife wrote a poem full of laughter, love, and Padden, I saw a glimpse of what Padden meant. I think it means you, Roger. I think it means everything you are and still are to your family. I have never seen a family so connected by one person and you appear to be a constant silent pillar.
I talked with Meg and WOW. What a brilliant Mother and a sweet soul. I thought, here is the other half to my friend. Emily being a sister is one of her best features, and to really meet her extended self was brilliant.
After playing with your family and swapping recipes, I settled on the couch with Ellen. She told me she wanted to show me your journal. The journal you kept from before you met her, to weeks before you passed away. I truly have no words to do this justice. I cried. I opened your journal and cried at how beautifully you chronicled your life. It was there, you were there, in the living room tonight. I read your passages, as you documented births, first words, school adventures, children's birthday's, engagements, marriages, deaths, all of it was there. There was a moment when I just looked at your wife and thought, oh my, what love she has for you. I desperately want that kind of love. I hope I have that kind of love.
We cried, and read pages of your journal. I saw your family grow up within those pages, I read about your triumphs and you sorrows, and celebrated as I saw each of your children write their names legibly. There was one page, where Emily had put a post-it, saying she was thinking of you, and I do that too. I do that for my mom and I have done it for others, just to let them know that the thinking about them never ceases, even when the words aren't spoken constantly.
I closed the book and thanked Ellen for sharing such a powerful and stunning gift. I thought for a moment, your entire family followed your lead, they are all writers. Andrew brought out his columns for the Denver Post and I read his heart-breaking and witty article about the death of his son. I sat in awe of the openness you Padden's possess. But, that is what you taught them, to chronicle their lives by writing. In each of your children's own way, they write their legacy for their own children to share and have something tangible for when they pass.
I left this house, this summer camp send off, with a heavy heart and deep appreciation for you as a father to my friends and a husband for a gracious and giving woman. You must have been the happiest of men to be surround with such love, and to have your family adore you beyond words.
It was my great pleasure to meet you tonight.
I love your family.
Kindly,
Taylor
