Letter To Dad ~ Year 14

Tears are welling up before I even start to type.

Hi Dad,

It makes sense, right?

The tears.

Even if it's been fourteen years?

I just love you so very much.

Still.

So much.

And I just want you to hold me like you did.

Even when I was forty.

I knew I could hop up on your lap and you would rock me.

We could sing a silly song.

And I would feel safe.

Thanks for being a "sitter."

In these days, sitting isn't really a thing.

You can sit.

But not for long.

They say it's the new smoking.

So bad for ya.

And to just sit and look out the window?

Or watch the cars go by?

Nope.

Everyone is on their phones or computers.

Connected to the World.

Not missing a beat about what's going out there.

And you know what?

If you were here right now?

You might be on your phone too.

I have to say I love that my memories of you aren't of you looking down at your phone.

You loved to read the paper.

And you did like to watch the Tigers.

And old movies.

And Days of Our Lives.

I'm smiling through the tears.

Sorry I roped you into that one, Dad,

Remember watching White Christmas with me?

We would just laugh as we looked at each other crying.

🎵 Will follow the old man wherever he wants to go. 🎵

Well, I would follow you wherever you would want to go today.

Probably right to your old rocking chair on Schultz Street.

With Mom in the kitchen.

Making us some chili.

Listening to us sing.

Or I could sit on the couch and just watch you rock and sing to my little ones.

Oh man...

When I think about how much fun my grand babies would have with you.

Dang it, Dad.

Now I'm really crying.

Axel  and Chloe.

Liv and Alice.

Kessa and Scottie.

I can't believe they never have gotten a chance to sit on your lap.

Or to stand on Mom's good coffee table and perform for you.

You would just love every one of them so much.

I know somehow you see them.

Just like you see me right now.

How though?

How does it all work up there, Dad?

Do you get to sit?

Rock?

Sing?

Golf?

I don't get any of it.

I know I'm not supposed to.

But, I also know somehow you are here.

And as I sit here and type.

You are near.

Your love lives on.

How could it not?

It was so big.

Thanks for being my Dad, Dad.

Thanks for being a dad that I was never ever ever scared of.

And I always knew you were proud of me.

And I always knew where to find you.

I remember when we would get to your house.

The kids would run in and jump straight onto your lap.

And Mom would say...

"Did you come home?"

And I would smile.

Yep, we're all home.

I think our little brick house on Schultz Street was "home" to so many.

Grand Central Station.

And Home.

One bathroom.

Three tiny bedrooms.

And twenty of us would all want to spend the night.

Sheets and blankets spread out all over the living room.

Ok, though... who really slept?

Crummy Rummy all night long.

Right, Dad.

One more game?

Man, you were the very best.

Listen, I have to go.

I'm heading out to Andrew's house.

Watching two of the most precious, fun little ladies today.

I will play and sing with them.

I will tell them about "Mama bear, Papa bear, and a high chair... no, no, no,"

I will sing about Robin Hood and Shoe Fly Pie.

They will giggle.

And I will know.

I got it all from my daddy.

They know you, Dad.

Your legacy and love live on.

Thanks for being such a good "sitter."

Thanks for always being right where I could find ya.

Thanks for loving us all so well.

For enjoying every single one of us.

What a picture of Jesus.

I love you so much.

Ok... I gotta go.

Man, you always did this.

Kept us staying longer than we thought we would.

I mean it.

I love you.

But, I'm out.

With a smile and tear.

And knowing somehow you are coming along with me today.