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he card making started right after Mother's Day weekend of this year. First it was just crayons and a piece of paper, but over the months it evolved into stickers, stamps, and then glue with shapes and feathers. If homemade cards could heal the loved ones in our sweet three year old's life, no one would be sick. She approached her card making daily, as her contribution to helping Mr. Roger get better. And she said the sweetest prayers for him and his beautiful wife at almost every mealtime. And when they weren't home for her to deliver her handmade creations, tears. She wanted to go over every. single. day. She still does. But now, the cards are for Ms. Karen.
he card making started right after Mother's Day weekend of this year. First it was just crayons and a piece of paper, but over the months it evolved into stickers, stamps, and then glue with shapes and feathers. If homemade cards could heal the loved ones in our sweet three year old's life, no one would be sick. She approached her card making daily, as her contribution to helping Mr. Roger get better. And she said the sweetest prayers for him and his beautiful wife at almost every mealtime. And when they weren't home for her to deliver her handmade creations, tears. She wanted to go over every. single. day. She still does. But now, the cards are for Ms. Karen.
We met Mr. Roger about 12 years ago. He and his wonderful wife have been our neighbors turned friends for over 10 years. They are the best. They come from the good generation of hard work, home grown fruits and veggies, and lending a hand whenever able. They are the reason that last summer, we had to keep an eye on Miss P when we were outside, because she thought all plants were edible due to their bountiful raised beds and berries. Last year is when he earned the title "Raspberry Roger." Since we had a newborn, we didn't make it over there to pick berries often, so he would pick a bunch of raspberries and bring them over to be gobbled up in no time.
Raspberry Roger was a tinkerer. Clad in his work overalls or suspenders, we would always see him working on something. And if he wasn't home tinkering, he was down at the farm. I swear, he never stopped moving. Just last summer, at the age of 74, he painted his own house. With a ladder, roller, and brush, he painted the entire exterior in about 3 days. Seriously. That man seemed to know how to do everything. A real mans man. But he always softened right up for our girls. This summer when he was headed out to one of his doctor's appointments, he saw Miss P struggling to pedal her fire engine toy. I told him that it was because of where the pedals were placed. I grabbed the tools I thought would work to move the pedals to the correct spot, but I was struggling. He immediately got the right tools and got down on one knee in his dress khakis and fixed the pedals. There he was, in the middle of battling cancer for the third time, fixing something for us.
Raspberry Roger had opinions on lots of things. How we should do this, or how we should do that. When he was sick and we were having projects done around the house, we would tell him that he needed to come supervise to make sure everything was done correctly. He never did. Which is how we knew it was pretty bad. Although our prayers for more time with him only gave us three more months, we are so incredibly thankful for the time that God did give us with him. We were so incredibly blessed to have him as our friend and our girls to have him as a surrogate grandparent. He passed away almost a week ago and the cul-de-sac instantly felt different. His guidance, encouragement, and good ol' boy nature will forever be missed. We love you Raspberry Roger! You will forever be a part of our story.
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