This morning, I awoke from perhaps the most frightening dream I have ever had.
I dreamed I received a phone call.
When I picked up the receiver, I heard the voice of my brother on the other end telling me that my father had died. I awoke with tears in my eyes thinking of my father and everything he has meant to me in my life. I began to realize that there were many things I needed to say to this giant of a man—I also realized that I would never be able to verbally express those things to him. I sat down, then, and wrote him a letter.
I am posting that letter to my blog not in hopes of getting accolades from anyone who reads it, but simply because it is one of the most heartfelt and real expressions of my feelings that I have ever written—and it will serve as a reminder to me of the debt that I owe him, and the immense gratitude that I feel toward him.
In an ironic twist, I realized after I wrote the letter that it is my father’s birthday...
(The names of my step-mother and wife have been omitted...)
Dear Dad,
I am writing this letter to you because there are certain things that I feel I need to say, and, since I am not much of a speaker I will say those things in the way that I am most well equipped.
You are a great man. I have always thought so. You have been a pillar of strength in times of trial, and an example of how to get things done in the most practical way. When I looked at you with the eyes of a child I always saw a stern and stoic man—but, not an emotionless man. Though you didn’t say it much, I knew you loved me. Now, as I think back and look at you with the eyes of a man, I see much more than just those surface observations; I realize that God has blessed me with one of the finest examples of what a real father is and should be. It has taken me nearly forty years to realize this.
When I was five or six years old, I slipped and fell into a pond while we were fishing. The only thing I remember is that I was looking upward, as if I were lying on my back, and watching the water close in around me. Just as the water engulfed me, I saw you diving in after me. I remember thinking how big you looked and how safe I felt knowing that you were coming for me. In the course of my life, nothing much changed. Every time I slipped and fell into a proverbial pond, you were there to dive in and pull me out even after your stern warnings not to get too close to the edge had fallen on deaf ears.
The truth is, I do not know why I continuously made the mistakes I made. I couldn’t tell you what motivated me to do half the stupid things that I have done in my life. I suppose a big part of it is just that I have always been afraid that I would never live up to being the man that you hoped I would become. In some odd way, I think I felt that in my inadequacy as a man, if I continued to be that five year old falling into the pond that you had to save, I would at least be receiving attention from you. If I couldn’t make you proud of me, I would at least have you saving me. You have never failed me, Dad, even though I know I have let you down on more than one occasion.
I know I cannot make amends for those things now. What is past is past. I want you to know that my sincerest hope is that I have not caused you too much sadness and grief, and, if I have, how sorry I am for that.
The thing about you and I is that for all your practicality, I was a dreamer. While you had your feet planted firmly on the ground, I had my head in the clouds. You have never discouraged me from doing the things that I was interested in, though I can see now that your advice was always right on the money. After nearly twenty years of playing guitars, for example, I still have not become rich. I am less of a dreamer nowadays, though still not quite as practical as you. These days, I am a fair to middling guitarist, but I still cannot fix my own car or build a house by myself. You once told me that I would never be able to “put wheels on that guitar”. You were right, of course; you have a way of being right most of the time. Hindsight being twenty/twenty, I wish I had paid closer attention to the lessons you were trying to teach me. It would be nice to be able to fix my own car and be a halfway decent guitar player at the same time.
There’s one thing that you are still teaching me, though, and that is how to be a good and honest man. I may not ever be the carpenter or mechanic that you are, but the example that you have set for me goes beyond such things. I am still learning from you, Dad, though I still do not measure up to you. I know that I will most likely go to my grave being less than half the man that you are, but I will die trying to be the person you have attempted to teach me to be. Trust me when I tell you this: even though we are now separated by nearly a thousand miles, you are still diving into ponds to save your boy on a regular basis. In any given situation, I think of you and how you would handle it. Everyday, I find myself turning to you for advice in my mind. The difference between now and then is that I am listening to what you were telling me then now.
I read a story the other day about a young Indian boy who was taken into the woods by his father to have his rite of passage into manhood. The father blindfolded the boy and told him he was to sit on a tree stump, awake, for the entire night. No matter what he heard, or how scared he was to become, he was not to remove the blindfold. If he made it through the night without opening his eyes, when the morning light came, he would indeed be a man. The boy sat there on that stump all night and did as his father had instructed him to do, and when the morning light came, he removed the blindfold to find that his father had been sitting beside him throughout the night. As I find myself coming out of the darkness of my own night, I realize that you have been sitting beside me, too, waiting it out with me until I could take off my own blindfold. You have always been my protector, and I thank you.
I know that all this letter really amounts to is words on paper—it will never adequately express my gratitude to you for the things you have done for me. It couldn’t possibly do so. But, I want you to know that I appreciate everything that you have done and stood for in my life. We have not always seen eye to eye on things, but I have always respected you, even if I didn’t show it.
I do not want you to worry about my well-being. I am fine and doing pretty well for myself right now. Mrs. w is a gift from Heaven, and she loves me in a way that I never thought I would be loved. Everyday, I think of you and (step-mother) and the love the two of you share, and I am thankful that I, too, have found that sort of love with Mrs. w. Perhaps the most important lesson you have ever taught me is the selflessness you have exhibited in your relationship with (step-mother)—a selflessness that I constantly try to exhibit now. I am working on myself, Dad, and trying to mold myself into the person that I know you always wanted me to be and knew that I could become.
Thank you for everything you have done, Dad. From the gift cards at Christmas and on my birthdays, to all the times you have pulled me out of those deep waters. You are my father, my teacher, and my protector, and will continue to be so. I only want you to know this one thing, and to know it without question or doubt—I love you with all my heart and soul and with every ounce of my being. I am unspeakably grateful to have you for a father, and unfathomably unworthy of such a gift.
With the deepest and most sincere love and appreciation,
Your loving son.
