I
think of things everyday, more like every hour, I want to tell you and I
constantly live in moments I wish I were sharing with you. I want to introduce you to everyone I
meet and show you every piece of my life, but carrying around a cookie jar may
be socially unacceptable.
Like I want to tell you about my
job, because I kind of got it for you.
Basically I fix things all day in the dorms at Central. I’m learning all about tools and learning
how much you already taught me, through the canoe livery, about work ethic,
business and people. I cringe every time I use the utility knife because I
remember the countless lectures of how I could cut off a finger. I’m
learning things that I know you would have taught me because I am trying to be
the daughter you would have raised.
I still need to change my own oil, learn to change my tires and not
be afraid of power tools, but I know you are a patient teacher.
I am volunteering eight hours a
week at Hospice, not because I want to relive your experience but because not
everyone has the family we have. It’s
strange to say that as far as death goes, I had a… positive experience? In the end I still lost you, but I can
focus on the fact that I was lucky enough to have you for the time I did. I want families to love like we did and
I want to love them like you loved me.
My apartment next year doesn’t have
a dishwasher, but you told me once that washing dishes by hand builds
character. I know I rolled my eyes
then because we had a perfectly good dishwasher to use, but I can’t wait for
dirty dishes so I can spend some time with you again. When I’m cooking, I add garlic to almost everything I eat
because “once you think you’ve added too much garlic… add a little bit more,”
right?
When I listen to Van Morrison &
The Chieftans, I remember you standing in front of the fireplace telling me
about your parents and how you miss them.
When I was eight I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live
without you, but I am twenty now and have been doing it for almost four
years. Those were the Friday
nights when you rented us movies and made us rootbeer floats, but never
anything for yourself. I asked you
why you didn’t rent your own movies and make yourself a rootbeer float and you
said what you always said, watching us have fun is fun enough for you. Now I listen to your music in front of the fireplace, writing about my dad and how much I miss him and I cry because, "sometimes a girl just as to cry,"right?
You said a lot of things, you told
a lot of stories and I wish I had that same gift. When I was really young you told me to be friends with
everyone, even if no one else is. When I was older we sat at the kitchen table
and said, “We’ve got a good life here Squitzoid.” You told me that you spent
your whole life making it so I could have a good life, so I could do the things
you never did. So I am doing the
things you wanted me to, make every opportunity I get an opportunity for
someone who wasn’t as lucky as I was to get a dad like you to build a life like
mine. You are probably worried
about how I will survive going into Social Work and joining the Peace Corps but
I know you are proud of me, being friends with everyone, even if no one else
is.
And no, I don’t have a boyfriend
Dad. Casey and Connor frequently
check to see if there is a boy they need to beat up. They’ve got my back.
The problem is, anyone I meet will never know you, so I don’t think they
will ever really know me. But once
I meet a guy who can make my homesickness go away, I will let you know. If they survive one of our family
gatherings then I’ll know.
I’ve been homesick ever since you
left, before I even left for Central.
When I come home I figure it goes away, but it doesn’t. Who I come home to definitely helps though. Dad, thanks for giving me such a
perfect mom. She is so much of who
I want to be and it’s no question you picked her. I see you in Casey’s eyes, his laugh, his funny ways of
showing me he loves me and his motivation to always take care of his
family. Your charm, humor and
kindness for everyone are all wrapped up in the big sister you gave me, no
wonder I admire Lacy so deeply.
And Connor is always showing me the bits of goofy, loving comfort I
needed from you when the world seems so daunting and hopeless. When I am holding their hands and
walking through the front door of my aunt’s house, I can feel you again. Thank you for this family. Thank you
for making me into the person I am.
Even though you aren’t here, you are still raising me.
I didn’t know what address to send
this to, so I am just crossing my fingers that heaven has wifi. I’ll see you when I see you. I love you more than air.
