I was an engineer for forty years. Now I send messages to the sky for no reason at all, and it's the best thing I do all week.

To my wife: the roses came back this year. You'd have fussed over them. I let them grow wild and I think you'd have liked that even more.

They say the light takes years to arrive. Good. Take your time. I'll wait. I always did.

Testing this contraption. My grandson set it up. Hello, out there.

To the future: we loved each other badly and beautifully and it was enough. Aim for that.

Eleanor, the grandkids are taller than me now. You'd be so proud. I'm proud enough for the both of us.

If anyone finds this after I'm gone: I had a good run. Be kind to each other. That's the whole secret, really.

Some nights the quiet gets loud. So I send a word up and the house feels a little less empty.

Fifty-one years. I still make two cups of coffee out of habit. Sending this one up to wherever you are.