I miss you

Dear Dad,

I thought I would be able to get through this year's anniversary without crying. I wanted to be brave, reflective and confident - without the sadness, tears and feeling of dreadful loss that I haven't been able to shake yet. I wanted to be strong and positive - comforted and assured in my belief and faith that I haven't lost you, that you're in peace now and that the best really is yet to come.

I'm trying - so hard. I am going to put my head down, busy myself through my nutty Wednesday and just get through the day - not forgetting the man who loved his family more than anything, the man who corrected my papers, paid the bills, did everything he could yet still needed me to reset the computer for the 1000th time. I just want to wish forget the pain of the end and remember the good times. Actually I don't even want to remember the good times, I hope you understand. Do you remember when I was in Our Town for summer theatre on the Cape? (Note to friends: If you ever read Our Town by Thorton Wilder you understand what I mean. In case you haven't, I found a nice synopsis on what I'm talking about):

Life is an emotionally stressing experience where even beauty and happiness have something painful for the human heart. The tactful stage manager leads us through chosen scenes in the history of Grover's Corners, where the beauty of family life is distilled into a few mundane moments. When Emily is allowed to relive one day, she's advised to pick an ordinary one, one where nothing exceptional happened. Even that is too painful to bear: it hurts to see parents young and lost relatives alive again, going through the day's routines with a complacency that now seems tragic.

I miss my Dad. I miss him everyday. But for all the nice holidays, proud moments and special occasions - I miss picking up my office phone, dialing his office number and talking to him about nothing - (sometimes he'd make students and even faculty wait - just so he could talk to me, even if we had nothing to say). For some reason I miss that the most. I wish I could have that chance again - but I know it wouldn't be enough. I wish I could let things go and be content with life - but I'm not that strong, not that stoic and not that naive. It hurts like hell and I still feel robbed. Three years ago around 4am we got that call from the hospice "Bob's gone now. He's at peace, I was sitting with him when he passed."

Three years later I still remember. I will never forget him. I wish I could forget the pain and leave the tears but I can't but I guess that is my comfort - knowing that for 26 years I had someone who could provoke such strong emotions. I miss you Dad.

Love,

Mattyboy

(Photo: Two years old - during the Blizzard of '78 - me and Dad - I think the Cossack look was in that year - laugh please, I didn't mean to get so heavy...)