A letter to Dad on his 70th birthday*
*Which was March 13, but then we had this whole global pandemic happen, so I think he’d understand my cause for pause.
Slick Rick,
It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone six and a half years. I remember thinking you were so young to die at 63, and now today, you’d be 70. SEVENTY. That sounds so old somehow.
It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone six and a half years. I remember thinking you were so young to die at 63, and now today, you’d be 70. SEVENTY. That sounds so old somehow.
I’d like to think you’d be watching the world news without worry, knowing you’d already survived a terrible car accident, a few wars, and a massive stroke. You always had an eye out for prepping, whether it was with stockpiled paper goods or those Army MREs we thought were such a novel treat for dinner.
I know you’re so proud of Adam. He’s been resilient as ever this past year, welcoming their third baby girl into the world and overcoming some awful work news. He brought you a beer today, of course, and I hope your neighbors at the cemetery don’t mind that he doesn’t share. You’d love all of your grandkids equally, but I’d kill to see you and L have a battle of wits. She would wear out your patience and then give you that devastating smile to make you melt.
You must be proud of Mom, too. She sold the house on Rusty Circle, the same one where you had the stroke and spent the last days of your life. She’s making big changes that are scary, but she’s not alone. You’re always with her, even if she’d prefer if sometimes you’d just let her spoil the granddaughters without question. Her move to be closer to the kids is something you both would have enjoyed in this phase of life together.
I hope you’re proud of me. I’m trying to write more in my free time, which I’m getting a lot more of lately. I’m doing well at work and constantly look to you and Pop for the encouragement to keep doing what I’m doing, not worrying about what others think. I have some incredible friends who made root beer floatinis in your honor tonight and I cried even more than you did when we saw Mr. Holland’s Opus.
There’s a lot that’s happened in the last year, and I hope you’re still listening to me each day. I know you’d prefer I curse less and have more patience, but I do have you to thank for those qualities so it can’t be all that bad.
I miss you every single day and can’t believe how much you haven’t been physically here to see. I can’t believe how much there still is to come. All I can do is hope and pray you’re watching over us; taking breaks with Food Network or The Weather Channel; and grilling burgers to your heart’s content for all of our loved ones up there.
Sending you all my love,
Mouse
Mouse
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He is as proud today as he ever was! Your remarks are spot on and to see him L. And you have a meeting of the minds would be awesome! Miss him every single day but after so many years of suffering he is at peace. At peace watching over his beloved family, knowing he is always in our hearts. 143