In My Write Mind

Dear Dad:

I keep… telling myself that everyday without you should get easier… but it simply doesn’t. And as much as I try to be strong, to move on, I haven’t yet. But I will.

I keep… wishing you were here with my mother, your wife. She misses you so damn much it hurts me. After 50+ years together, this year without you has caused her face to have a permanent frown. It’s natural now. Which isn’t great. But it just shows how much you were to her. How much you still are.

The things you both experienced throughout the years, the ups the downs, the struggles, the successes… that’s who she is right now. Who she’s become. And with a fiery determination, she continues to nurture what the two of you built. Makes sure it will be still standing even when she’s gone. She misses you.

I keep… waiting to hear you sing one more song, a sweet song… the kind that filled the room every single day. I keep waiting for your encouraging words, your discipline that came in the form of a hypothetical situation or experience. Keep waiting for you to laugh at one of my horrible jokes, to hear that you’re proud of me or that you saw me on TV.

I keep… in mind everything you taught me, everything I learned from you every day of my life. Your respect for women, you ability to make people feel at ease, your love of family and friends… all of that is what I hope to perfect one day. I’m still working on it. But with your instructions, words and direction in my heart and mind, I’m so far ahead of the game.

I keep… wanting to know the real pain you experienced over those last ten years, want to feel what you felt, want to take it all on myself… and bring you back without the pain. Bring you back to when you were my walking life example, vibrant and strong. A man’s man. I keep wishing that could happen. And then… I wake up and realize that it won’t happen. I keep wanting it, though.

I keep… saying things you say, doing things you used to, acting the way I feel you’d expect me to. The way that would make you proud. I’ve had some missteps along the way. Have fallen short. But I’m still trying.

I try my best to keep the family close, but everybody is doing their thing. I keep making plans to move out of state, with mom’s blessing. I remember when I wanted to move back from Cali those many years ago, you told me I didn’t have to.

You wanted me to follow my dreams. You didn’t realize that not being here while you were sick would cause nightmares. You always loved the way I could write about anything. Moving back home back then made me right about everything. About being with you when you needed me most. Exactly like you were there for me every step of the way, no questions asked. I keep asking mom if she will be OK when I go, and she says yes.

I keep… asking myself if I’m doing the right thing.

I keep… remembering how many people showed up to your funeral, the stories they told about you, stories that I’d heard before, but still made me proud to be your son. To have that kind of turnout… that kind of rapport with so many people… shows what kind of special man you were. I wear that as a badge of honor these days, as I have my whole life. I was put into a special slot when I was put with you. I realize that. As a matter of fact, I keep realizing it.

I keep… up with your side of the family as well, making sure they have whatever they need. To hear their voices now, the reverence they still show you… makes me want to be like you. Well-respected. Earnest. Honest. Loved.

I’m working on all of those things.

So today, on the anniversary of the day that your body left this earth, when you breathed your last breath that early Thursday morning… I keep… saluting you. I keep… remembering you. I keep… loving you. And will try my best to be like you.

I have a lot of work to do as it comes to that… but I’m working.

And I will keep doing so.

With All My Heart, I Keep Going…

Your Son

(Thanks to Jill for the inspiration… thanks to my dad for the template on how to be a man.)