Dear Dad, 
Today marks a crucial date for me. You died exactly ten years ago, in the room next to my room where I am sitting now; you had slipped into a coma for that entire day and passed on, not peacefully like I wanted or imagined it, early in the morning. I was fourteen, and you were 52.
I don’t want to talk about your death further, but I want to instead write you this much needed and deserved letter, hoping that you can somehow sense what I am trying to communicate to you from wherever you rest.
I didn’t appreciate you when you were alive. Not enough for the person you were. Do you remember all those times I begged you to take me to McDonalds after school? You almost always gave into me, and I don’t know if it’s because you were a softy, or because you enjoyed our time together so much that you also wanted to go to McDonalds. I am fairly confident it was both. I remember when I was in Jr High, I had to walk to the bus stop. It was only a block away, I could have walked home, but you always came and picked me up in that baby blue Chevy Lumina with a big smile on your face. I know I didn’t appreciate those small things at the time, in fact I may have taken them for granted, but I do now. You took me to best buy so many late evenings when my mom wouldn’t. Infact, mom would never have any of that nonsense, she would be in bed sleeping by the time our evening started. I remember so many times staying up late in the dining room with you, listening to music, learning about old bands from your era, playing old records and 45s, and oh yes…creating the much underrated compilation cassette tape. I still have all the ones you recorded. Remember the cassette tape of The Cars Greatest hits? Right before you passed I fell in love with it, and played it 24/7. Shortly after you passed away, I accidentally broke it. I cried for hours.
We used to have chess tournaments before you got too sick to play. My official player name was “The Duchess of Windsor” and yours was “King Wilhelm.” We’d play almost every evening after dinner, and blast the much necessary background music, Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits III. I know you let me win a lot of those games, you know. Your chess abilities were unmatched by my feeble attempts. The day before you died, you became sharp as a tack. It almost seemed miraculous, everyone thought you had been given more time. That night we played chess, and we came to a draw. Several hours later, you couldn’t talk or open your eyes, then a couple hours later, you were being carried off. I am sorry I didn’t stay in the room with you, I hope you understood I was frightened. It’s hard to watch your best friend die, and not just die, but lose their breath knowing they will never be able to catch it – just listening to you choke from my room was painful enough.
When you were suffering through chemotherapy, I am sorry I wasn’t there for you more often. Your condition made me feel awkward – when it was hard for you to speak at times do to loss of cognition, I didn’t know what to do. I admit to have felt ashamed, but I want you to know that I would never be ashamed of you now, and I mean that so genuinely. I am sorry.
Over time I learned to cope with losing you, with the assurance in my heart that you are still with me somehow, that you can still see me, and are proud of me. I hope you are proud of me, because I live my life the way you lived yours when you were dying: proud, confident, and strong. You are my hero.
You died ten years ago, but sometimes I feel like you are still around. Whenever I get in my car, Neil Diamond always seems to be playing. Quit messin’ with my radio, Dad – I -still- don’t like him.
Maybe I will never see you again in any physical or spiritual sense, but even if I do not, I hold onto and cherish these memories you left me with great fondness. Every day I become scared that I will start forgetting those memories, and then I will have nothing left of you. Nothing scares me more. But I don’t forget.
So thank you Dad, for inspiring my me to be who I am today. I’ve had my set backs, and I have had some rough times, times I am not proud of, actions I regret, and events I wish I could take back, but overall, at this very moment, I am happy. I just wanted you to know.
Love always,
Sarah
