Dear Dad

I didn't see you living, breathing as a man.
I saw you single, isolated, briefly throughout my time.
Often times I wondered if you even knew it was me who held your hand and spoke with you when you lay sick and near the end.
I know you drowned your sorrows in gallons of despair, masking all the feelings you didn't want to share.  But I also know you loved me, in the only way you could. Quietly, from afar. And once before you closed your eyes and said goodnight for good, I got the chance to forgive you for all you never were and all you never did.
I remember the last time you held my hand, at a funeral no less. I saw then, and knew, I wouldn't ever have another chance to forgive or say that I loved you. As we sat inside the church and ate in silence side by side, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I remember placing my hand over your aged and wrinkled knuckles, the only intimacy we ever had, and squeezing just a little. You looked at me with those sad eyes and said that you were sorry... for it all...that you didn't know how to be a dad. I told you then, I don't really need a dad anymore, I just wanted to know you. I loved you then, more than any other moment in my life. I felt your presence inside my heart as if you had always been there for me. I wanted more, always wanted more, but instead of asking I let the matter be. Afraid you would reject me, or ignore me, worried that you were too afraid to move forward beyond the simple touch. I told you that day, that I loved you and always had, not for what you wanted to be, but for who you really were. I hugged you tightly as you got in the car to leave and told you I loved you. You looked back at me and said that you were proud of the woman I had become, touching my face, ever so slightly. All those years of sadness came pouring from your eyes.

I thank you for that. I needed it all my life.

I remember thinking, it was the last time I would ever see you alive. And it was.

When Christmas came so close, I dreamed of you in light. Smiling in your gentle way, filling me with comfort. The call that came that morning did not surprise me much. Somehow, now your dying, has made me understand. I know that in this life, some are filled with guilt for deeds that went undone. I know you carried the baggage of lost opportunities and missed chances, unclear in your purpose and reasons to be alive. I have vowed to never let this happen and each day I pray for God to give me strength. Strength to go beyond the immediate and tell the ones I love how very important they are.  I wonder, how long will it take before this pain subsides, before the sound of your voice is no longer familiar, before your face disappears from my memory forever.

For now, on my darkest nights and most desperate days, I feel you watching over me. Protecting me from myself and guiding me in silence.
 
Every day you are there, as you never could be in living.