Dear Dad


Dear Dad, 

This is the second Father’s Day I’ve had to spend without you. The second year I haven’t had to buy a card, write “I love you, Dad!”, sign it, and send it. I really liked doing that. 

I liked getting to talk to you on the phone whenever I wanted, but mostly on Father’s Day or your birthday. I liked hearing about what your plans were for the day, how the weather has been, and anything else you might think of to tell me. I liked telling you about what I was up to, too. 

If I could talk to you today, Dad, this is what I would tell you:

Today is a lovely summer Sunday morning in Annapolis, Maryland. As you know, I moved here about three months ago, and I love it so far. This weekend, Brent and I have Rowan, so I got up early with Rowan so Brent could sleep in a little bit. I made coffee, cleaned up the kitchen, and hung out with Rowan until Brent came downstairs. Then we made vegan chorizo and potato breakfast tacos, fixed another pot of French press coffee, and watched Rescue Bots. 

It was recently Rowan’s birthday, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, we weren’t able to have his party, and he still hasn’t received some of his gifts. Brent got him a bike this year, so he’ll be putting it together while I “distract” Rowan. (He’s pretty well distracting himself at the moment, playing a video game.) After the bike is put together, Brent will show Rowan how to ride it. Maybe we’ll go to the park. 

What might you be doing today? You might wake up late, have coffee that Sindy made, read the paper, and watch some sport on tv this morning. Then you might go out to lunch – somewhere you like to go – a Father’s Day buffet, maybe. (Is that a thing?) After lunch, you might go look around open houses in Omaha. You’ll discuss what you liked and didn’t like about this one or that one. You’ll like the ranch style, but not the one with lots of steps. 

Then you might take a drive. I remember how much you liked to do that. You might go look at cars. It would be a nice, clear summer day.

Later, Sindy would make dinner, steak, maybe. With mashed potatoes and green beans. No garlic – I know how you don’t like garlic. 

I really miss you, Dad. I can’t overstate that. I miss you every day. I’m not over it, even though it’s been over a year. I don’t think it will matter how many years go by, though. I don’t think I’ll ever be “over it”. You’re my Dad. You’ll always be my one and only Dad, and you’re not around anymore. It just sucks. The upside though, is that I believe you’re in a much better place. I hope so, anyway. My hope for you is that you’re safe, at peace, and not suffering in any way. 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you and I miss you. I hope you’re doing well.