Three Years Gone - Three Years Missed
December 15, 2023
Hey Pops,
I know it's been a while, and I apologize for falling down on the job here maintaining this space. I have been busy, which I know you understand too well. It's been three years today since you had to go. The days between have gotten a little easier, but your memory endures. I think about you every day. And too many days I find myself wanting to pick up the phone to call you and share the day's happenings or a funny story (usually one that is funny at my expense - but we both were fond of putting ourselves in innocent, compromising situations for a laugh; I have photographic evidence, mind you).
As I'm sure you're aware, because she better be there right beside you, Mom passed away only a few months ago. Your daughter did an amazing job caring for her. She doubts this in herself, too often. I think she would appreciate receiving your approval, however, you might be able to give it. I don't know what that would look like, but I'm sure she'd recognize it.
Thank you for everything, Dad. For nearly 79 years as a wonderful, devoted father. For being my friend. For being my hero. And for providing me with an example of strong character, selflessness, and thoughtfulness I continue to try to emulate. I know I fall short. I'm unfortunately hardwired a bit differently, but you knew that. You didn't quite understand it, but you did your best. That's more than many fathers would have done.
Thank you to you and Mom for all you've given Sis and me over the years and continue to give even though you are no longer here. I don't deserve the generosity. I have taken far more than I have given, which shames me. Nevertheless, I am grateful to you both for your love and faith in me to do better. I'm trying. I truly am. And though each day comes with its own set of challenges, be they external or internal, I manage somehow to scrape through. No one will know the depths of my pain; I keep a lot of it as well hidden as possible. I imagine you can see it now and understand better how much I am a prisoner of my own mind. I miss who I used to be so long ago when there was seemingly nothing I could not accomplish. I know you were proud of me then. I struggle to believe you were proud of me when you passed. But I think I might have begun to earn back that pride in these intervening years.
So, three years. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I am still grieved by not being able to say goodbye to you in person. But if I'm being honest with myself, I would not have been able to endure seeing you in the amount of pain you were in, that even through the morphine brought you to tears. To this day, I still wish I could have taken on that pain and taken it from you, the same way you always tried to unburden me of my fears and perceived failures. You taught me a lot about how to be a man. For a good part, I wish I had listened better. These days, I'm trying to be better. In case you're watching. And if you are looking down, please make note of that as well as the fact that I still have, mostly, a full head of hair.
I love you, Dad. I always will. I know Jamie is thinking about you right now. We're both feel so bittersweet that you and Mom have been reunited. I can't speak for Jamie, but I still feel a little lost without your guidance. But I'm finding my own means to light the path forward. I will always look behind with longing and regret. It did take until the very day you passed for me to finally become a man. I'd always been just a boy playing at being grown up - too scared to trust myself. However, like I said, I'm trying to do better and be better, and I couldn't have asked for a better role model.
I'll try to be better about writing. I love and miss you, Old Man. I will love and miss you until forever's last day.
I know it's been a while, and I apologize for falling down on the job here maintaining this space. I have been busy, which I know you understand too well. It's been three years today since you had to go. The days between have gotten a little easier, but your memory endures. I think about you every day. And too many days I find myself wanting to pick up the phone to call you and share the day's happenings or a funny story (usually one that is funny at my expense - but we both were fond of putting ourselves in innocent, compromising situations for a laugh; I have photographic evidence, mind you).
As I'm sure you're aware, because she better be there right beside you, Mom passed away only a few months ago. Your daughter did an amazing job caring for her. She doubts this in herself, too often. I think she would appreciate receiving your approval, however, you might be able to give it. I don't know what that would look like, but I'm sure she'd recognize it.
Thank you for everything, Dad. For nearly 79 years as a wonderful, devoted father. For being my friend. For being my hero. And for providing me with an example of strong character, selflessness, and thoughtfulness I continue to try to emulate. I know I fall short. I'm unfortunately hardwired a bit differently, but you knew that. You didn't quite understand it, but you did your best. That's more than many fathers would have done.
Thank you to you and Mom for all you've given Sis and me over the years and continue to give even though you are no longer here. I don't deserve the generosity. I have taken far more than I have given, which shames me. Nevertheless, I am grateful to you both for your love and faith in me to do better. I'm trying. I truly am. And though each day comes with its own set of challenges, be they external or internal, I manage somehow to scrape through. No one will know the depths of my pain; I keep a lot of it as well hidden as possible. I imagine you can see it now and understand better how much I am a prisoner of my own mind. I miss who I used to be so long ago when there was seemingly nothing I could not accomplish. I know you were proud of me then. I struggle to believe you were proud of me when you passed. But I think I might have begun to earn back that pride in these intervening years.
So, three years. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I am still grieved by not being able to say goodbye to you in person. But if I'm being honest with myself, I would not have been able to endure seeing you in the amount of pain you were in, that even through the morphine brought you to tears. To this day, I still wish I could have taken on that pain and taken it from you, the same way you always tried to unburden me of my fears and perceived failures. You taught me a lot about how to be a man. For a good part, I wish I had listened better. These days, I'm trying to be better. In case you're watching. And if you are looking down, please make note of that as well as the fact that I still have, mostly, a full head of hair.
I love you, Dad. I always will. I know Jamie is thinking about you right now. We're both feel so bittersweet that you and Mom have been reunited. I can't speak for Jamie, but I still feel a little lost without your guidance. But I'm finding my own means to light the path forward. I will always look behind with longing and regret. It did take until the very day you passed for me to finally become a man. I'd always been just a boy playing at being grown up - too scared to trust myself. However, like I said, I'm trying to do better and be better, and I couldn't have asked for a better role model.
I'll try to be better about writing. I love and miss you, Old Man. I will love and miss you until forever's last day.