Dear Dad

I grew up the child of what I now understand was a very difficult divorce which was the result of a very difficult marriage.  One of the consequences of both was that after the age of six or so I spent, at most, two days a year with my father: Christmas and my birthday.  And on my birthday it was usually the result of me making a phone call to remind my father it was indeed my birthday coming around the corner and could we spend time together.

As I reached my early twenties I was angry.  Angry at him, angry at the childhood I was denied, angry I missed the relationship most had with their dads.  I was left with a father.  So I wrote a letter.  It was....angry.  My father didn't respond until a few months later.  He sent me a plane ticket Milwaukee where he, my stepmother and his newborn daughter were living.

On the second night of my stay he said, "let's go get a beer."  We drove to a classic Milwaukee neighborhood watering hole and ordered two drafts of their finest.  And he said something that our relationship and only later in life did understand, had changed me.  "Sean, I know I wasn't there for you as a kid.  And I know as a result I've lost the right to be your dad.  But I really like  you, respect you and love you.  I would like you to be in my life and to be in yours.  And although I know I can't be your dad I can be your friend.  Somebody that's seen things you will see, made mistakes you might make and maybe help you avoid them."

That was his offer.  And I took him up on it.  What followed has been 30 years of friendship, fellowship and love.  His newborn daughter is my full fledged sister and close friend.  My stepmother is the best grandparent my kids have and an invaluable friend, counselor and mentor to my wife and me.  And my dad is one of my closest, dearest friends. 

I don't write letters often.  But I felt compelled to send one to him today. 


5/18/2018

Dad-

Had a dream the other night.  I got lost on my way to an appointment and ended up back home.  My mom was there, concerned and frustrated.  One of the side effects of the pain medication I take (Gabapentin) can be memory loss.  I explained to mom that it was my medication and I was fearful of what I couldn’t remember.

I woke saddened and a bit teary.  As I was meditating later that day I think I decoded the dream.  I was not fearful for myself.  I was fearful for you.  And inside that fear was some selfishness.  I don’t want you to forget me.

I have come to understand in the later part of my 54 years that I was not only born your son, I was born to be your son.  We share similar tastes, similar quirks, similar sensibilities.  All without spending a great deal of time together as I growing up.  I was born to be your son.  That’s why I called you for time together, it’s why I was so disappointed when I didn’t get it and why I found myself so angry as I reached adulthood.

You were generous as I found my way to forgiving your shortcomings with me.  And you have been generous as a friend, a mentor and most importantly…a Dad.

And this is the point of my letter.  I know that you are struggling with your memory.  I know it’s what’s made you maybe a little more quiet when we’re together.  Whether you remember a fact about a politician, or where we went last August or even what we’re doing next is not the most important thing.  And the most important thing is not even remembering that I am your son.

The most important thing is that I don’t want you to forget that you’re my Dad. 

With Love,

Sean