Of course, on one hand this was sudden.. and on the other hand you were suffering and dying for a while. I knew something was different after your stroke. We use to talk for a long time on the phone, then our conversations went to only about five minutes. Your answers were brief. I tried not to feel judged. I knew in my mind it was due to medical issues but it felt like I mattered less. I remember asking mom if you were eating less and sleeping more after you retired. When she answered yes I had this feeling things were getting worse. I hate and hated I have to live so far away, mad at God that life made me live so far from family, to feel so alone.
I'm planning on moving back... but it wasn't quick enough. Even in your death you reminded me of the importance of family. As everyone gathered to support you, we were also supporting one another. That family bond is so important and so vital. I simply cannot and will not miss out on more time than I have to in the future. I hope to get a job now somewhere close.
I remember getting the call that you were rushed to the hospital being found mostly unresponsive. I had a nagging feeling in my gut. I waited for news and updates. Something in me knew this was what I had been waiting for and dreading. Your fight with cancer, among other issues, was coming to an end. I left with haste to see you, with hope you might get better... but knowing what I know from being a Chaplain, it was more realistic this would be the last time I would see you.
I remember stroking your head, touching your hand, playing a few songs on my phone you use to play for us at home growing up. I still hear you in my head singing and making jokes, sometimes inappropriate ones.. but we still always laughed anyway. I remember you playing Phase 10 and holding all your cards until you could get a Phase out and use all your cards to end a round... you said there was nothing in the rules about holding your hand. It was mischievous and likely a bit of the programmer in you finding a loophole in the game. Now everyone else would have more points so if you were tied in the final round, you would win the game. You were always smart like that.
I keep getting my tenses mixed up talking and remembering you. It is your Birthday or was your Birthday. You love to play the piano or loved to play the piano.
You were an amazing father. You taught me my emotions matter. You taught me I didn't have to hide behind some false male emotional wall. I wish the rest of the world felt the same. I often want to retreat inward to protect myself from the critiques of others, yet always felt safe opening up and talking to you about life.
I'm sad you never got to meet my wife or children. If it ever happens, I hope and believe you will meet them in heaven one day. I think more than anyone, you likely heard the most of my struggles regarding jobs and dating, in a world that normally feels like everyone else gets tired of hearing such struggles.
I haven't forgot about you, though I haven't been too open about my thoughts and feelings since you left. I think about you on and off often. Due to my anxiety, that's all I can afford. I feel like if I dwelt on your absence too long I might get lost in a dark cycle and not be able to eat or sleep or work or move. As with most things, distractions help so I don't get totally lost in my emotions.
I just wanted to say on today, the day you were born, that were were an amazing father. I am sorry you are gone. I wish I had more time with you. I hope they have piano's in heaven. I'd like to sit beside you again one day to hear you play and sing with you again. May God bless and keep you in his arms until that day.
Your Son Forever,
Daniel
