Happy Father's Day, Dad

a letter to my dead father

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Your leaving left a dad-shaped hole in my heart that I've spent decades trying to fill.

In my 40’s, I found an image of my father’s headstone in an online database of cemeteries.

As a child, I asked the questions nobody would answer:

What was my dad like?
What did he smell like?
Were his hands rough, or smooth?
Did he like tomatoes, like me?
Or despise them, like Mom and Chris?
Did I inherit any physical traits from him?
Did he have any allergies?
Was his voice deep, or falsetto?
Did he love music?
What was his favorite band?
Did he sing in the shower?
Was he shy, or outgoing?
Was he scared of anything?
Did he have a temper?
Did he like to read?
Was he in the war? Was he terrified?
Was he close with his family (my family) and will I ever get to meet them?
What really happened when he died?
Was he alone or afraid?
What is my dad’s birthday?
What is my dad’s birthday?
What is my dad’s birthday?
What is my dad’s goddamn birthday???

Nobody answered, so I built the father I wanted.

I have good news, Dad. You were perfect. My hero.

You never had the chance to fail me. My life was spent thinking about how good you would have been.

Mom said you adored me.

The only photo I have with my father.

I know you would have been there on my first day of school, so proud of your little girl, and not caring that I gripped your hand too tight.

You would have held the back of the bicycle as I learned to ride, encouraging me to be brave. I would trust you.

Your cheers would have been the loudest when I won the spelling bee, I just know it. And, I wouldn’t care that my ponytails were lopsided when you did my hair.

When I skinned my knees roller skating, I would have run into your arms and breathed in the perfect smell of your cologne and sweat. Your scent. Your hugs would have been the best of them all.

I would have been so safe in your presence. Physically, emotionally, sexually.

You’d have been mad at that boy who first broke my heart. “He wasn’t good enough for you, anyway, Shell,” you would have said.

You would have stopped me from some of the choices I made, because I wouldn’t have wanted to disappoint my daddy.

When I made a mistake, you would have used that as a teaching moment. You would always be patient and forgiving. Because you'd admit it when you made a mistake, and I'd be free to be human, too.

You would have loved me no matter what. No conditions. No unnecessary expectations.

You’d have tears in your eyes as you walked me down the aisle giving your blessing to my marriage. My mind would have worried if my husband was a good man, like you.

Knowing your family, aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, I would have felt so supported and far less alone.

You would have helped me handle all the tough things I had to deal with as an adult, still wanting to protect your princess.

My kids, your grandchildren, would have felt so safe in your presence. I would have had so much comfort knowing this.

When Christopher named his son after you, I know you would have been touched.

You’d have done good, Dad. So damn good. I firmly believe this.

I am sure it wasn’t your choice to go.

Thank you for loving me while you were here.

You've been missed.

With all my love this Father’s Day, and all the ones still to come without you.

♥ Michele

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