Tags: Daughter, father, Father's Day, Letter to Father

You weren’t my father, at least not in the biological sense of the word. You took on the role and carried it out with finesse and pride. We do share the same DNA with a slight generational gap. You are my grandfather, but in my mind and in my heart you were so much more than that.

You were the one who went to work every day to make sure I had food in my belly and clothes on my back. You were the one who took pride when I got good grades or showed disappointment when I had done badly. You were the one that stood by me through thick and thin. You were the one that was there when I needed you both financially and emotionally. You took on the role as my father with pride, but you were even so much more than that.

You were my daddy in my heart and in my soul. You were the one that galloped around the hall with me on your shoulders singing Hi Ho Silver Away as grandma prayed we would remember to duck in the doorways. You were the one who took me to skating lessons. You were the one that took me to school functions. You were the one who made sure we never missed a county fair or steam engine show. You were the one who shared your buckwheat pancakes with me as a small girl.

You have been gone for four years now and I don’t think you will ever know how much I loved you then and love you still. I miss you every day, but on Father’s Day I miss you even more. I miss the sound of your voice and the joy in your laugh. I miss the way you played with my kids, your great grandchildren, like you did with me when I was a little girl.  I miss the smell of your hair when you hugged me. I miss the warmth of your lips when you kissed my cheek.

I selfishly wish you could be here to celebrate Father’s Day with us, to celebrate the role you took in my life. But I can only hope that you can feel the love and the strength you left me with.

Missing you,
Your Daughter

~~~

Ryanick Paige is a freelance writer and bargain shopper extraordinaire. Some of her work can be read at Associated Content.

Tags: father, Father's Day, grandfather, great grandfather, Letter to Father

On Father’s Day, it’s important to note that there are many different types of fathers… this letter definitely conveys that, in multiple ways.

~~~~

Dear Father,

I took a vacation from the church. The vacation lasted for years. I could sleep in and I never worried about Sunday Mass. That changed three years ago. I joined your church and began to be active in the community. I will admit, I went kicking and screaming, but my wonderful husband gently persisted and led by an example that I never realized was there.

You see, my boys, they need to grow up knowing God. They need to understand that there is something bigger and better than them in this world. They need to understand so much and even though I believe, I do not have the experience, knowledge, or openness to share my faith as completely as you do.

You have helped me in that sharing. I have always considered my faith private and rarely discussed it with anyone. I now answer endless streams of questions and listen to the stories of the Saints that my Kindergartener has eagerly learned.

You were a brand new pastor when we joined your church. I had some doubts about the direction that this parish was headed. This church had gravitated away from the traditional music and solemnity. My husband was worried about the children that were processing in waving ribbons. You see, we came from a church that had girls dancing down the aisle waving scarves on Easter Sunday one year. That was the last mass we ever attended there.

I kept faith and you reaffirmed it with the way that you tie your actions in with your homilies and your everyday communications. You said that the community is strong because of the children and when it is time to celebrate then we should and need to celebrate.

We made a decision to send our children to your Catholic school. Both my husband and I attended Catholic schools and felt that we received excellent educations. We were looking for “a complete Catholic education.” We have found it. Unfortunately, it took a tragedy to completely convince us.

We received a recorded phone call from you at 10:30 one night. As soon as you said “Dear families,” I knew something was wrong. I listened for the next minute and a half as you explained that my six-year-old’s teacher had died. Your words were eloquent and spoken with a heavy, faithful, heart.

I was awake for the next four hours pondering how I was going to tell my son the news. I wish I had recorded your beautiful words.

I awoke early the next morning in order to gather myself before waking my son. I used your words to break the news to him. He cried, hard. He said that he would be sad forever.

I attended the all school prayer service that morning. I needed to go for him, to make sure he was okay. Like any six-year-old, he was fine. Your words were beautiful and a comfort to the entire school.

The other parents were just as moved as I was. You were able to convey that death is never the end. You also gave everyone comfort with your stories of the love and compassion of this wonderful woman. She did love the children. It was so transparently obvious in all she did.

When my son got home that afternoon, he excitedly told us how you were seated in his classroom when the children entered that morning. He was laughing because you were acting like a student by raising your hand and asking questions of the principal. You conveyed your message by being one of them.

Over the next week we heard stories about you. You were there for the kids to lead them spiritually. You reaffirmed what we believe and are trying to teach our children about life, death, and God.

The all school memorial mass was again beautiful and, well, uplifting. We were all in tears and happy and sad at the same time. Thank you for asking for our participation. It was important to us to be able to sit with our son and the other students.

You told the family that the book that the children had put together was not complete. You said that it will never be complete because of the life that she led and students and people that she touched. You said that her life is not over; it had just begun. I cannot convey how much the students, parents, and family needed to hear your conviction. It is a fact and you made sure that everyone there believed it.

It was a blessing to see his teacher’s family there. Her mother and sister visited the classroom afterwards and shared stories about her to her children.

My son will always be connected to his Kindergarten teacher and may always be sad that he lost her but you have led him spiritually to the understanding of God’s greater plan and of heaven.

I don’t know how this would have been handled in a public school. I do know that the only way that we were able to get through this was through spirituality and faith.

I now know that God puts people where they need to be, when they need to be in places for a reason.

Thank you for keeping the communication open.

Thank you for being able to discuss the sadness in such a positive and loving way.

Thank you for putting life, death, and God all into a religious perspective.

Thank you for being there for the children.

Just Thank You.

Tags: father, father of all, father of the church, Father's Day

I know we haven’t always gotten along well, but I have always loved you and wanted a better relationship with you. When you and Mama divorced, I thought for a short time that maybe we would have that better relationship. You confided in me, shared things with me, and even introduced me to the woman you had been seeing.

Then you married her. We weren’t even invited. You ran off to Vegas and came home and told me about it nearly a month after it happened. Maybe that’s why I did the same. I didn’t tell you about Ryan until I knew my sister had already told you about him.

But then you came home and you and your new wife moved into the home I had grown up in, and you moved her children into that home. When I came to visit, it didn’t even feel like home anymore.

Then you moved an hour away, and the only time we saw each other was on holidays or special occasions. I can’t say I missed you, since I don’t guess I ever really knew you. You were never an active part of my life.

Then you moved back, and that’s when you started talking to my sister. Oh, you and she were so close, sharing everything together. I was jealous, but I tried hard to hide it. I had lived all these years without having a real relationship with you, and I had done so because I had told myself that you just weren’t able to have relationships with your kids.

But there you were, having a relationship with my sister and your stepkids.

I wondered then, “Is it just me?”

I remember when I was in the hospital. I was so sick. Yes, you called me on the phone while I was there, but you never came to see me. I want to believe that the reason you didn’t come to see me was because you were scared, afraid to see me weak or frail.

Your wife came to see me though, but that’s not saying much since she worked at that hospital. She told me, “You know, we’re in the medical field, your father and I, and we know when something is serious or not. He would have come if it had been serious.”

I don’t know how serious it was to you, but to me, they poked a hole in my chest, had me completely immobilized and told me that if this medication didn’t work, I was probably going to die. Seemed pretty serious to me.

Then again, I’m not in the medical field. I mean, when they tell me that if this doesn’t work I could die, that sounds pretty serious to me.

I’m also not able to detach from my emotions like you so obviously try to do. I would have been there for you if you had been sick. I would have sat by your bed and waited on your hand and foot. I know even now, if you were sick, I’d be the first one to find a way to you, to take care of you, to be there for you.

You’re my Daddy. That’s what family does.

Where were you?

After I got out of the hospital, you called me a few times, and we talked. I got my hopes up again. I’m nearly forty years old and you’d think I’d know better by now. But still, I got my hopes up, thinking you would listen, understand, love me.

In reality, all you wanted was inside information to use against my sister, who had had a falling out with you guys for some reason. I don’t even remember why now. I don’t even care why anymore.

And then, one day, you just stopped calling. The conversations we’d had, the hope I had built up – shattered.

I still don’t know what I did wrong.

I called you on father’s day and got your voice mail. I left a message, but you never called me back.

I called you on your birthday and got your voice mail. I left a message, but you never called me back.

When Thanksgiving came around, I forwarded my home phone to a cell phone so that I wouldn’t miss your call, specifically wouldn’t miss YOUR call.

You never called.

Christmas came and went, and you never called. I called you Christmas Eve and left a message, and then waited all day long on Christmas Day.

And you never called.

I had presents for you and your wife. I was so proud of the things I’d picked out. I still have them, too. Still wrapped, on the top shelf of the closet in the hallway.

And I cried.

I felt like that little 15 year old girl again, desperately wanting her parent’s love and approval and getting nothing but ice, cold, silence. I felt like a wounded child.

And like a wounded child, that night, though it had been a wonderful and beautiful night with people who loved me all around me, I curled up in a ball and let him hold me while I cried.

I’m so glad he understands me enough to know that it’s not because he’s not enough.

It’s just… you’re my Daddy.

And I miss you.

I know that it’s hard for you to see me as anything but the daughter who disappointed you, left home, got pregnant and ruined her life.

But I have two beautiful children, a wonderful family, a home of my own now, and that baby I had as a kid graduated from high school with honors three years ago and is making As and Bs in college and has a great full-time job. My son is a loving and wonderful kid who is sharp as a tack and he’s going to really make something of himself when he finally figures out where he belongs.

I’m successful now. People respect me. They listen to my opinions. I do what I love, and I love what do, and I have people around me who love me and appreciate me.

I have books published, did you know that? Yeah. See, I changed my name for the books. I tell everyone it was because the name was too common, and while that’s true, sadly, it’s also because it removed my association from a family that has not been what I dreamed and believed a family could be. Should be.

I guess you could say I reinvented myself. One day I woke up and decided that I didn’t like who I was and what I’d become.

I finally broke away from my expectations of what I thought you wanted me to be, what Mama wanted me to be, what anyone else wanted me to be.

I finally became who *I* wanted me to be.

And I found out something in the process.

I like me.

I really, really like who I am, at the very core of me. For the first time in my life, I’m happy. I’m not talking about happy in the moment, but truly, deeply, soulfully happy.

I love my life now, my little chosen family, the people I wished into my life. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting better every day.

Still, I know you’ll never see me as who I am today. That makes me sad, because, you see, Daddy, I think that if you knew me, you’d really like me too.

I don’t need you anymore, Daddy. But my heart still wants you. I still sigh wistfully when I see a father and daughter of any age out together. I had always hoped that as an adult I could be somewhat of a contemporary with you, someone you respected, maybe even considered a friend as well as a daughter.

You haven’t been there for me when I needed you, when I wanted you. I know I haven’t been the perfect daughter, and I know that in so many ways I’ve let you down and failed to live up to your expectations.

But the one thing I want you to know the most is this. I forgive you. Even if you will never forgive me for failing in your eyes, I forgive you for failing in mine. And when you need me, it won’t matter if you’ve gone years without speaking to me, I’m going to be there. I’ll be the first one by your side when that call comes in that Daddy needs me.

Because, Daddy, that’s what family does.

Because, despite everything else, I still love you, and I still want you to be my Daddy.

Love,
Shelly

Tags: daddy, family, father, letter