Hi Dad.
Today you would have been 72 years old.
You were taken from us before you turned 70, but what a life you had. I know you wanted to do other things before you went, and I'm sure you would have done more, but I think you forgot what you'd already done. Some of the things you experienced in your life... I can only imagine what they were like. You achieved things in your 69 years that others couldn't in a hundred. You were far more incredible a man than you'd ever give yourself credit for.
I wish I'd spent more time with you when I was able. I suppose regret is unavoidable for both of us.
Things have changed quite a bit since you left us. Part of me is glad you didn't live to see this pandemic. Another part of me thinks this whole thing would probably be better with you around. I think if you were still here, I would feel more concerned for your wellbeing, yet simultaneously more relaxed because I know you would be able to keep people safe, and keep things under control.
I wish I could talk to you again, even if it were just over the phone. I would have really appreciated your help over these past couple of years.
I can often imagine what your responses might be to various topics - they wouldn't always be great responses, and you wouldn't always necessarily understand.
But you would listen, and you would help. You would try to push me in the right direction, as you've always done.
I haven't cried about you in months and months now, but of course now I'm writing this to you, waterworks.
I miss the advice I know you'd give me - I confess sometimes I become incredibly envious of friends who are still able to receive advice from their respective fathers.
But I also just wish you could see how we are now.
I wish you could see how strong Mum's being. How hard she's worked since you've been gone. How she still soldiers on, despite everything. She's unstoppable.
She also misses you dearly.
I wish I could discuss with you the things I've learned, even in the short time you've been gone; about myself, about people in general, about... things. Life.
I wish I could teach you about the stuff we didn't realise was wrong, that I've now come to understand, and I know you would too.
I wish you could meet my girlfriend. I think you would have really liked her, for a plethora of reasons.
I wish you could meet my cats, even though I know you don't care for cats. You'd see how different they are to what you'd expect. You'd come around.
Really, I wish you could meet me, who I am now. I wish you could see who I'm becoming, the direction my life is taking.
I like to think you'd be able to relax a bit about my wellbeing if you could see me now.
I can only hope you'd be proud.
I'm terrified of forgetting you. I can forget so many things, I don't want you to be one of them.
I get the impression some people thought I would step into your shoes somehow. But I didn't. I am not you. I can never be you, nor do I want to be. We are different people.
But every so often, I'm reminded that there's still so much of you in me. I hope I never let that go.
I want you to know that as I make my way through each day, I try to take the values and wisdom you instilled in me and apply them to my life. I extrapolate them, emphasise them, pass them on to others as best I can.
I'm certain that I'm not the only person who does the same, after having you in their life. I'm sure almost every one of your countless students over the years is doing just that, in some shape or form.
I like to think that in that way, you might continue to live on. Not perfectly preserved as how you once were, but in how we think, how we feel, how we act.
Thank you for giving us that.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you so much.