I know you died almost 5 years ago today, but this isn’t something I’ve wanted to do.
I had actually meant to call you earlier that week. I had been thinking about the days you spent teaching me to ride horseback – and the first day I soloed in your airplane after you spent countless hours patiently teaching me.
But I didn’t call. Because I also remembered the other stuff. The pain, humiliation, never being good enough – being the butt of all your jokes… The other things never spoken of. My own son still didn’t understood why I never took him to see his grandfather after his grandmother passed away. And he was angry with me for a long time when he realized he’d never see you again. Someday I may share with him why.
I want you to know Dad, the pain hasn’t left – the humiliation either. They have only begun to lessen. But something has joined them that I was in no way prepared to feel.
I guess, bottom line, good or bad, right or wrong, you were my father. I inherited my joy in music from you. Other things too – but this is not the time to rehash those old wounds.
I may not be able to explain the sorrow… but I guess I have it to carry for a while. Understand, Dad – it’s not the heart-rending pain that I suffered when Snick passed away … but it’s still there – like a small black hole in my personal universe.
So I want to do the dutiful thing … no … I want to do what is right in my heart, and that is to thank you for the good times (though few) we DID have, and start letting go of the bad.
Rest in peace, Dad. I wish things could have been better between us.
Your number two son,