Letter To Dad -- Year 3

Hey Dad,

Kev just asked me if it feels like it's been 3 years.

I have no idea.

Sometimes it seems like it's been an eternity.

And sometimes?

Just yesterday.

I do love that if I close my eyes I can still see your face.

Hear your voice.

Hope that never goes away.

You know what's weird?

Sometimes when I look in the mirror?

I see your eyes --

In mine.

Not sure I ever thought I wanted to grow up and look in the mirror and see you.

But now?

It just plain makes me smile.

Guess what Dad...

Alyssa and Kevin had their third baby girl.

Know what they named her?

Alice!

Baby Alice.

Mom is on cloud nine.

Oh, and Alyssa calls her Punkie.

How cute is that???

Now listen...

I'm trying to get Billy and Amy to name their son Orville.

Then we could have a little Orvie and Punkie.

C'mon!

Wouldn't that be so cool?

They aren't going for it Dad.

I still have a couple weeks to talk them into it.

Drew says that he will name his son Orv someday.

Finding a wife to agree with that might not be easy.

I'll take a little grandson named Orvie.

I think?

I can just see you making your little pouty face and talking baby talk...

"Nobody wants to name their baby Orvie"

You alway were trying to make us feel sorry for you.

You were cute like that.

We're buying a house Dad!

It has red brick and a big front porch.

Reminds me of home.

Remember all of our talks on the front porch?

Remember how I cried when my boyfriend broke up with me?

It was just you and me sitting out there in the dark.

You didn't say much.

Just told me it was gonna be ok.

And ya know what?

It was ok!

You were always so good at settling me down.

Making me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry.

The way you would tickle me.

Tickle all of us.

Crazy how it would hurt more than tickle.

And we would all just stinking come back for more.

Tickle Torture.

So, I have to tell you this.

Alyssa brought the girls to stay a few weeks ago.

Little Livia was trying to get to sleep and I decided I would tell her a story.

Normally, I sing.

I have a whole list of fun songs.

Most of them you taught me.

But this night was different.

A story seemed right.

Which one do you think I picked?

Yep!

Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

I have to tell ya.

It wasn't good.

I could barely remember it.

I did do the whole "Papa Bear, Mama Bear and a high chair - no,no,no" thing.

And she caught on.

It was cute.

You know what the best part was?

Even though I pretty much botched the whole thing...

She looked at me when it was over and said "Gramma Karenen, you soo funny!"

I loved it!
I do wish we had a video of you telling that story to show the little ones.
You were the master story teller.

I understand now Dad.

The whole grandparent thing.

Why you always wanted to watch all of our kids.

Why you were so good at making each of the grandkids feel special.

Nothing quite like being a grandparent.

And you were so good at it.

Christian and I were talking about you the other night.

Your love for the simple things in life.

Family.

Travel.

The Tigers.

Golf.

Telling stories.

Michigan.

Listen Dad.

Don't tell anyone this.

I could get in real big trouble.

But secretly, in the quiet of my soul?

I don't hate Michigan.

I even find myself cheering for them sometimes.

Yep.

Keep that between you and me.

I mean, of course I love Ohio State.

I'm a Buckeye.

There's just a soft spot for those Wolverines that's always been there because of you.

While I'm confessing.

Can we chat about Mom?

You know we are all trying to take real good care of her right?

We all know she's the best.

But Dad,  I get it now.

How much time you spent just listening.

And listening.

And listening.

To her talk.

And talk.

And talk.

At dinner every night.

In the car on those long drives.

She always had something to talk about.

Guess what.

She still does!

We all take turns listening.

I just realize now how sweet you were all of those times.

Tell me.

Did you ever just turn your hearing aid off?

I'm thinking you did.

Oh, and how about the way she just tries to feed all of us constantly.

You want a Twix?

You want some Veggie Straws?

Some coffee?

You want a bite of my sandwich?

No Mom.

No Grandma.

No Punkie.

I think though, that you would always just let her feed you.

She has always been such a servant.

You've always known that.

I told Mom that I want to put a picture of Grand Central Station up in her room at our new house.

That's what Schultz Street was.

And it's the same here Dad.

Never a dull moment.

Almost never a quiet house.
Always a Punkie Party.

I know this is long.

I just miss you Dad.

That's all.

You know what I miss so much?

How safe I felt with you.

As a kid.

As an adult.

You were a refuge for all of us.

We don't take that lightly.

Thank you Dad.

Hey, I remember your flaws too.

You could be ornery.

You weren't perfect.

You know what's funny?

If we kids say something "real" about you.

Mom will look right at us and say...

"Not my Orvie."

"My Orvie was practically perfect in every way."

Love is blind.

Right Dad???

Oh, but you were pretty darn perfect.

I love that you didn't take yourself too seriously.

You could always laugh at yourself.

I want to be like you when I grow up!

Tonight we will celebrate/remember you.

Milkshakes.

Ho Hos.

We will tell stories and maybe sing a couple of songs.

Oh, and watch a video or two.

God gave our family such a sweet picture.

How a father can love so unconditionally.

Listen so patiently.

And be a very present help in time of need.

I'm thanking God again today for you Dad.

You will never know how much your life pointed us all to Jesus by the way you loved us so well.