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September 30, 2005 2
Dear Dad, 3
I spoke to you, a year ago today. Not with words, but mind-thoughts: Are you happy? Can it be that you are at last free from your old nemesis, Pain? Did you get to see Harry again? It took me all day until I could finally say aloud, Dad, do you know how much I love you? I didn’t really expect a reply, so I wasn’t all that disappointed when I received none. Still, my questions continued. 4
Was it okay that we didn't spend more time together? Would you now know the answers you had searched for all your life? We have so many of the same questions, Dad. Did the mysteries of the world reveal themselves to you? Was there a magical moment of eternal epiphany, or are you as clueless up there as we are here, below the heavens? Were you greeted by your favorite uncle, Charlie? Did my zoo flock to you and greet you as I had so hoped? Would your widow be best kept in your home? [sigh] 5
Ah dad, when the time came, did you understand how much your writings meant to me? That your creativity gave wings to my own hesitant artistic expression? I remember... well... when I spoke at your service, was it really your loving radiance that smiled upon my face brighter than any sun? Did you not urge me to speak past the void you'd left in my heart? Did you realize how confused I was as I stifled hysterical laughter at the thought that you really were speaking to me? I was having a conversation, in my mind, with my dear dead Dad. I remember I kept thinking this is so surreal. A year ago now... but still, I remember. I remember you, Dad. 6
Some children never know such love from their fathers; death, physical and emotional separations, interfere. Yet, I knew you. I knew you as a father, and as a man. I knew you as a person I admired. Never without fault, but-- I knew you. Do you know now why I love you? Because you didn’t, then, not when you were alive; couldn’t see what you meant to me. Of five children given to you, three to share, only one, perhaps two, recognized your worth. And really, how crass of me to speak of it. Only... 7
I just don’t understand how I am left to mourn you in private. Your widow has her own pain and cannot take on mine. My mother, your ex-wife of many, many years, she still cannot comprehend that you are gone. The others... well, whatever. But of the two daughters, born of your flesh, why am I alone in my mourning? Of course, you never understood her and God knows I do not either. In fact, to attempt even greater understanding with my older sister would be a catastrophic event that I fear would shake the foundation of my spirituality: family life as I know it would cease to exist. Well, something like that, at least. I don’t think I could handle her truth. What a shame. What a damned shame, dad. I’m sorry she hurt you so. I know you asked me a hundred times, you'd just say, "Why?" but I had no answer for you then, nor do I have any for you now. I can't tell you her motivations. I remember the puzzlement in you face; I recall how my heart hurt to see a grown man of viking proportions cry. 8
As I’ve said already-- and at the extreme risk of repeating myself-- I knew you. The words keep repeating in my head, a refrain that never stops when I think of you: I knew you, I knew you, I knew you! Your worth. Your loving ways. Your big-gentle-bear-ness. And this day marks the one year anniversary of your death. One year that I’ve been speaking to you, wondering if you really can hear me. Asking if you now know the answers to the questions that life brings; even those that death comprehends. You might say that we are separated now by life-- my life-- for surely death is as omniscient in reality as it always was in our minds. Hey, Dad—I only have to die to have all my questions answered! How funny. Well, don’t worry—- I’m not THAT impatient.9
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No, death presents no barrier between us, really. It is my life only that separates us now. But, all things in time and one day-- one day, Dad-- you’ll be able to answer my questions, face to face (or is that soul to soul?) We can swap memories and create new ones together; doing it alone, surely you can see, is just so wrong. It hurts to remember too much. No, I must be satisfied just nibbling on memories of you, of us; savor them and be content with that memory for a long time before I again reach into life's rich box of chocolates. But I’ll continue to talk to you, without words (like these), because every girl needs her daddy. And because... death has not cheapened your worth, to me, at all. 11
Love, 12
XXXX 13
Author notes
Revised 02/04/06
Written more as prose. Yes, this is true. My tribute to the first year.... Left photo of my dad in the military during vietnam era.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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I nearly just missed you story after spending about 10 minutes looking for it. This was so beautiful as well as telling us the memory of your dad you included your other family. You had so much love and care in this but your sadness was evident in this piece it was just excellent. It would have been wonderful for both of you to get to know each other, but this letter is so wonderful and pure. It's terrible that you were left to mourn by yourself but I guess you were right some people are in so much pain themselves they can't carry someone else pain. This was a wonderful write and I was just struck with emotion.
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What a wonderful gift you have given me with your comments MY MI. Don't save it- I'll always be around
Yeah my daddy finds me as amusing in his death as he did in his life I think. I like that. It's kinda odd, but I think of myself as a sort of female version of my dad. So much alike in so many ways. Then again, I could say the same of my mom. Yet I'm very much my own person. Don't think negative thoughts, only enjoy the time we each receive to spend with those we love, and who love us in return 
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God, Adrienne, I am at a loss, I need to believe he 'sees' this letter, shared in triibute and or perhaps more even ssshred with love -- with us, god Thank You. It, it captured me and I am so so moved and would like to cry for the honest, loving, beautifully written ever so real letter to your Father...
It makes me think oh how lucky I am to still have mine and...and my terrible fears of losing him ever...
you show me here you can keep someone and they do 'live' on somehow...I cannot explain, I this...
it, painfully very, very Beautiful, god, no wonder you inspire...
Love and more Love oh, you...
(and there is so much love within this beautiful 'letter', humble Thanks, Adrie, many...)
just ever so absent too much,
mi
oh, he, well, this, I, I think I will try to keep somehow, maybe bookmark, perhaps
Ah, YOU!
Edited on Oct 07, 12:54 because ''. -
Mary, I am really touched by your comments on this oh so personal piece. I'm sorry that you never had the chance to form a relationship with your birth father. I do know I was lucky to have had my dad. Funny that I started writing a poem but it just refused to be conform so I'm really glad you and others understood it. Really quite humbled thank you again
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talented!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
God this story was brillant. I know how it feels to lose a daddy. My mum just told me a couple of years ago that I had a different daddy from my brother and sister's and I was shocked but most of all I wanted to see him, then she let it out a couple of days later that he was dead. To me that was far to let. I have a picture of him and that's it, I dont know anything else. I wish he were alive so I could get to know him, that stuff. well I'll not start boring you.
Your story was great, you told it full of love and care. I think if your daddy was alive he would be proud of you, your a very talented write and I think your work will go far one day.
I loved the flow and laugue, it all sounded so well.
the man in the picture is very handsome. It's a lovely picture.
great work. I truely enjoyed reading this piece.
mary
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I am sorry for you loss Mia. Yeah, hey I'm supposed to be reading YOU think week and here you are I like to think most of us who have lost a parent, or anyone for that matter, thinks these thoughts. Once I write them down I feel so much better kinda odd that
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This was so beautiful. My mum and dad have passed on and my step dad too so this really touched me and its funny how many of the things you have written I too had asked
Beautiful
Mia
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Sis, I was not expecting this when I clicked the link just a tad before logging off. I cannot do it justice right now, so, I'll be back.
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all I have to offer -
you are an amazing person! -
I'm far more into prose than poetry thus this came as a pleasant respite for me. It's a beautiful tribute that touches upon your happiness and pain. I haven't read Margaret's comment, but I know something about her and Know she'll find a kinship with your words. I too, though my dad and I were not as close as you and yours, I do understand about siblings who aren't appreciative of a parents worth.
Your words were honest, heartfelt and kept me engrossed with your love of your dad.
Edited on Sep 29, 5:06 p.m. because ''. -
This is beautiful, sweetheart, I got tears again. Your line "I knew you, I knew you, I knew you!" explains how I feel about a few people, and will be a comfort when they are gone, I hope.
My father is not the kind of man who shares his life, but I know my mom, and it is a blessing to both of us.
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I was lucky to have known my father well. I didn't know him much as a child; it was as an adult that we came together. We plotted ways to identify with each other and to forgive old wounds. In this way, I came to know him as an adult best damned thing I ever did was reach out and keep trying.
You're chillingly correct in your analysis of me. You must be an empath Thank you for taking the time to tell me you 'got' this letter. When I speak from the heart, I do not even think about what I'm saying I just... write it. Only once I post it do I wonder if I should. But I always feel better for doing so.
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Lovely. I repeat, Lovely.
I am glad you had this relationship with at least one parent. It shows well that you know how to love. Open, with your whole heart. The problems have probably come when others didn't know how to receive it. You, at first, thought is was you.
People, are a privlege, in our lives. Unfortunately, most of us never have enough of an experience of it. This is a beautiful letter and leaves my eyes full of tears about how tender you are when you love. Tears, because it is sad that your father can't always be alive to hear you laugh and hold you when you cry. Thanks for giving me the privlege of hearing your heart through this letter. Love, Tom B.
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