Daddy
My son is 10 years old and my daughter had her first dance recital last week and I thought of you there with us as so many families whooped and hollered for their little dancer. I thought about her knowing the sound of your voice in a crowd. I thought about that twinkle in your eye pointed her way. There are still so many times that I don't know how to do this life without you.
I think sometimes about how you would have really disliked aging, especially if your health was never great. But then there are times where I imagine you with the level of vitality of mom or Uncle Chip and it is still so devastating you're not here for this.
I do wonder sometimes if my embracing of my whole self would have changed the closeness of our relationship. But I also know that my journey toward that wholeness started as I started into the eyes of my child and wondered what ways his self might be segmented and alienated if I, his mother, couldn't accept all of him. I have hope that you could have looked me in my eyes and decided that my whole being was safe with you. (Whether or not I would have ever gotten around to this inquiry while still anchored in the segments of me that required your closeness if up for debate.)
You would love your grand kids and they'd love you. I never had the benefit of being close, in zip code or sentiment, to my grandparents and it is such a delight to see the joy those relationships give my kids. I wish they had you. I wish they could learn from your softness and wisdom. A model of masculinity of a different flavor than their dad and his dad. I wish my husband could understand me through a framework of knowing you.
Anyway, tomorrow is father's day and I'm glad you're my papa.












