Dear Dad,

I can’t quite explain how much I miss you.  I talk to you every day, and I know you’re with me, and I’m so grateful to know this deep in my bones.  I asked you to help my lime tree bloom, and since you died, I have 17 blooms on my tree.  You deliver!  I’ve never seen anything close to that number in the years I’ve had this tree.  It feels so good to know that you’re working with me on the other side.  Sometimes you feel so close, especially in the morning.  It reminds me of when you would wake me up for school every day.  Cheerfully, with no expectation to be met with the same good cheer.  You were a morning person.  Ugh, Dad, referring to you in the past tense feels awful.  I hate it.

We have had seven family birthdays since you died.  I’m so proud of Mom for carrying on with your tradition.  I was dreading my birthday, missing your singing voice serenading me first thing in the morning.  As it turned out, I felt so held by you when Mom called and sang in your place.  I can’t tell you how comforting it felt.

I’m scared about the holidays.  You made them fun, and I am committed to doing the same in your honor.  I’m not sure what weird gags I’ll devise, but I’m asking for your help now.  The weirder the better.  We all need to laugh.  I envision setting a seat at the head of the table, for you.  That was Bridget’s idea.  Pouring a glass of fancy red wine.  Compelling Oliver to lead everyone in prayer with the prayer cube.  I know we will share stories.  What I would give to hear you tell a story right now, even one I’ve heard many times.  To hear your voice.

I have so many good memories, Dad.  I feel really lucky for that.  But I can’t get the image of your suffering out of my mind.  You preserved your dignity as much as you possibly could.  You didn’t complain.  You shared your fears, you allowed me to take care of you.  I take pride in my tucking in skills, and I knew every moment we had together was precious.  I hated going to sleep at night, so cozy in my bed, knowing that you were alone, afraid, and miserable…willing your heart to heal, demanding every last effort from it.  Your heart was huge.  So generous, so loving, so forgiving and fair.

I take comfort in the fact that we had a fairly long goodbye, we left nothing unsaid.  I knew we had run out of topics when you asked about my dating life.  That still makes me laugh.  Don’t worry, I’m taking your advice.  It’s supposed to be fun, right?

Thank you, Dad, for the many gifts you gave me: your time, energy, love, compassion, and faith in me when I didn’t have much faith in myself.  I know you’re within me, right inside my heart, and beating in the hearts of my sisters and my kids and their kids.  Your legacy of love and kindness remains with us.  I won’t let you down.  I will spend my life honoring everything you stood for.