Well, Dad, it’s been two and a half months. Ten weeks since you left. I suppose I am coping, I suppose things are going fine. I know you would want me to be strong, and brave, and holding it all together. But honestly, I’m a mess.
I’ve lost one of my main anchors. My stay, my rock. I’m out here drifting with one finger in the dam. I can’t handle even the smallest things anymore. Baby Girl frustrates me every morning, every night. I’m not sure how she’s coping with Grandpa’s death except to tell me every once in a while that she misses him. Baby Girl has strong feelings, has passion and grit. But she also is sensitive and can’t handle anyone being upset with her. Yet, she continues to upset us by not listening, not doing as she’s told, by giving me attitude and disrespecting me.
Dad, what would you do? You never told me how to handle her, your fu-fu. But you expected her to do exactly what you told her to do. And like the rest of us, she usually did. You never minded giving me a break, having her come to your house to play. You insisted the train table and toys stay in the living room, where you could watch her play. You had to know where she was if she wandered out of sight for a few minutes. She didn’t know it, but you always had her back.
Just like you always had mine. You would never have let anything bad happen to me that you could help. You did anything and everything for me. Even as Mom became unable to communicate you took over the every day phone calls and check in’s. I’m not sure if this was for my benefit, or yours. I know you were lonely, too.
I know the last three years were just damn miserable for you. Essentially losing the love of your life, your mobility, your independence, and your appetite. Losing your home in Tyler was a heartbreak you never got over. I still feel terrible that you had to make that choice, that what you (and all of us) felt was best for Mom turned out just to be a stop-gap before the inevitable. We all wanted more time. With her. With you.
But I was grateful you were close. I am grateful that Fu Fu had this time with you. The only light in your life these past three years, at least you had each other.
I miss you. Your belief that you were bulletproof, your confidence, your cussedness. Your willingness to do whatever it took to make us all happy. Family first. Pray to God. Be a good man and stand up for what you believe in. Determination, patience, persistence. Grit. But above all else, love. You loved us. You held on as long as you could out of love. I know you did.
Today is your favorite day of the year, Dad. You were always expecting a phone call on Veteran’s Day. Once Fu Fu and I made you an American flag cake. You were so pleased with it even though you only said “alright!” the way only you could. Conveying pleasure and appreciation with that one word. Today I am even more of a mess than usual. To not be able to call you and hear your voice is almost more than I can bear. I’m going to see Mom today instead. I’m going to go tell her how much we all love her and I’m going to think inside that I’m not really ready for her to join you, yet. I wonder if somehow she knows you aren’t here anymore. I believe she does. I believe she knows because otherwise you would be there. You would never abandon her willingly.
But you knew we would take care of things. Mom, and Fu Fu and ourselves. You knew you had done everything you could. You were more than ready to go.
In my mind you are still bulletproof.
I love you, Dad. Happy Veteran’s Day.