Dear Dad,

Today’s your birthday. Well, congrats. I hope you and Grandpa are having a great time celebrating.

I usually find myself trying to call you around this time of year—this and around holidays, around the day you died.

As I get closer to level 50, I can now say that I fully appreciate what you were trying to instill in me. I know what you’re saying, “Sure took you long enough, squirt.”

You always complained about how I did things the hard way. I still do. I learn more that way.

I admire the fact that you let me make my own mistakes when I was a young adult and provided emotional support when I thought my world was imploding. I also thank you for the celebrations — helping me move to another state a few weeks after my daughter was born, running my first 10K race and seeing you hold my sleeping toddler son …

I should have moved back to our home state sooner, so like your wife, you could see your grandkids grow and they could have more memories of you.

I still remember parts of your speech to me as a teenager when you encouraged me to use my talents to the best of my abilities. I had just gotten through a rather rough season as a high school student-athlete. At the time, I was proud of my abilities but felt really lost because our team had a really rough season. That, combined with the regular high school bullying, totally threw my confidence off.

I blew off your speech like most teenagers who don’t believe their parents. But it has always been simmering in my brain, telling me to keep moving forward when things are hard.

I give my own version of that speech to my now young adult and teenage kids. You said it better than I ever could.

In some ways, I’m still unsure of my true talents. I know a little about a lot of things — my trivia skills are on point — but I haven’t really felt like I can say I know something enough to be an expert.

Maybe that’s the recent shift in my life talking. I went from 30 years in journalism asking government officials about things to being a person working in government who answers the questions. I still write, but I’m more into making graphics and fulfilling my need to be creative.

I recently took a trip that reminded me of you. Your granddaughter runs competitively for a college, and we went to see her run and visit colleges with her oldest brother.

We drove through one of the neighborhoods where you helped construct homes in a city we moved from over 30 years ago. I’m not sure if the homes are still standing or not. I just know the place has changed, just like how people change over time.

I still have my core, which you helped mold, but it’s covered in layers of adventures, joy, and sprinkles of sadness. I will admit that sometimes the sadness overshadows the other parts in certain layers, but overall I really can’t complain.

The fact that I’m still alive is a miracle. And that’s enough. Grandpa would love that line, as he was always a huge fan of musicals. My children have our family’s love of music. The oldest son is a chef, like you. The youngest son is a bit of a smart-aleck, like you, and a talented athlete. Like his mom, he shines when he applies himself, but that’s work, which is often hard and boring.

Maybe he’s ready for the talk. Third kid will be the charm, right? Maybe this time, I’ll sound as good as you did, and he’ll do something spectacular.

I miss you, your goofy singing, your home-repair expertise, and your homemade spaghetti sauce.

I’ll see you around, sooner than later.

XOXO

  • Squirt