Few things bring about a greater focus on life than the loss of a father. The news hits you, and suddenly you're forced into this self-inflicted guilt trip about how you could have done things differently. How you should have stayed a little later to participate in the last family gathering so as to be in that one picture that turned out to be the last as a family together. How alone he must have felt when you learn the details of his passing.
But once the shock passes and you regain your senses, you come to terms with who he was as a person and just what your relationship with him has forged into you. You look back at those moments in life with a new-found retrospective and what they eventually instilled. Such as those ridiculously stressful teen aged driving lessons where you're expected to know precisely what he's thinking while checking your mirrors for a lane change. Getting caught sneaking back into the house late at night when you think he's asleep, only to find him waiting there as he says; “I called the morgue, and they didn't find your body.” That awkward moment at the lake house when you know you're old enough to drink that “first” beer in front of him, but it still feels like it's a trap. That realization on your 30th birthday that he was right all along about life so far, in that you had NO idea what you were talking about all this time.
And despite his faults as a person, (which we ALL have) you rediscover the reasons to celebrate how his presence has come to shape the man who wrote this for you to read.
Because of him, I know how unequivocally important family is and that I will do everything in my power and then some to protect and provide for them. My son-to-be will ALWAYS have a happy home to come back to no matter where his life takes him. My son will learn as much as I can possibly pass on to him so that he won't be left unprepared in a time of need.
And despite the emotions that writing this today invokes, I only wish that my son could have met him.
I am my fathers son. I am me.
And this is goodbye.
Peter