A letter for Dad

So here we are. You had a funny way of showing it, but this is what you would’ve wanted. I can’t help but feel like you knew. Your last bit of sanity was left for me. Your pessimistic attitude and apathetic, nonchalant actions were screaming louder than any words.

Se la vie. No other words could not describe you more. The unfortunate irony of this very fact being your downfall. The man that could’ve been. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, right?

You were simple, kind, and wise. That’s how I’m going to remember you. The man who cared for and loved his daughter. No matter what demons you fought, you did the best that you could. I could sit here and choose to be mad about our situation, but what good would it do? You’re my father, despite all of your flaws. So now I sit and celebrate the life you lived, at least the highlights. Enjoying my morning, taking time for myself, and doing what makes me happy, like catching up on laundry.

Thank you for teaching me over the years. You had quite the life to live before I came along, and with that, many lessons to learn. I hope I never have to learn the hard way with some of those lessons. One of the many things that you’ve taught me over the years is about self-respect. I don’t know if you intended for that to be the lesson, but that’s how I interpreted it.

I struggled with school, and I was starting to doubt my abilities. You were taking me to tutoring that evening. I was telling you how I felt stupid because I needed to go to tutoring at all. Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I didn't want you to see. You told me that just because I struggled with math or with reading, doesn't make me dumb. You told me that I was incredibly smart, just street smart, which I now know is not the best word. I was a pretty sheltered kid. I trust too easily, and I was a shy child. The word I think you were looking for was practical. I picked up on the ways things worked. Either way, I took pride in it. You basically taught me that the grades I received on my tests did not reflect how I should see myself, that I was smart even if not conventionally, that I had worth no matter what.

They say that you won’t be suffering anymore. I hope that’s true. Everyone seems really sad still, which is normal and fine. I guess I’m just ready to move on. Is that selfish? I believe you’d tell me that my thoughts and opinions were valid. I thrive on structure and I think you did too. The predictability feels safe. So when I say I’m ready to move on, I’m more leaning towards. I just want that feeling of normalcy again. I want to feel normal.

Thinking back, that’s probably the thing you wanted the most, to feel normal again. What is normal, though? Seriously, I can’t think of a time in the past 3 years where I didn’t have something going on during the week. Something of importance, a big thing that I had to remember and deal with. From doctor appointments to tests, to meeting with someone for lunch, to dealing with crazy people or insurance people or landlords alike.

Well, I’m not sure what else to say. You were the best dad that you could’ve been, and that’s all I could’ve asked for. I hope you’ll be able to look down and be proud of where I am and where I’m going. I couldn’t have done it without you, so thank you. I love you.