Happy Birthday Dad

Dear Dad,

You would be 84-years-old today. Each passing year the photograph of you on my living room wall looks younger. I have now lived more years on this planet than you were given. How crazy is that.

I remember when I smashed Mom's car when I was 16-years-old, tore a hole in the side of it, and burst through the door sobbing hysterically. I know you couldn't even understand me at first because I was crying so hard. I finally managed to blurt out the details between my deep gasping sobs, and cried, You have to come out! You have to see what I did!

But you just sat there calmly and said, No. I'm not going to. That stunned me. You told me that it was more important to you that I calm myself down then for you to go look at the car, and when I was feeling better then we would go look at it together.

Dad, that was a remarkable thing for a father to do. You, who didn't know how to tell people you loved them, showed me how much value I had to you in that brief moment. You showed me too all those days when I was in the hospital and you canceled business trips to be at my side everyday. I didn't know right then what a gift from God my illness was, and how he was blessing me by giving me time with you right before there was no time left. Dad, it was your death that led me to God; life made absolutely no sense to me unless I embraced him. Dad, it was your life that led me to God, because despite the hardships, the alcohol, the pain all that caused - I loved you so ferociously, I looked up to you and idolized you and thought you were the most brilliant and wonderful man on this planet.

Dad, life is so crazy. I only had you for 17 short years, and you've been gone for almost 34, and many memories of you grow dim. Yet as I type this the grief wells up once more, the tears still flow, the love - the magnificent, incredible, amazing love I have for you is just as present. Forever and forever, Dad.

My love to you. My love to Mom. My love. My love. My love.