Open Letter To My Dad

For everything I never got to say.

Dad,

Lo Wolfe Photography

I remember the first time that I had a dance performance. The backstage was alive with energy, the whole area filled with ballerinas and tap dances and jazz students. Mom was running around going nuts trying to get me ready, and I was young enough that I wasn't nervous about being watched by over a thousand people at all. I remember how you came backstage and you gave me a hug and a kiss and wished me luck, and then how you asked if I was ready, dressed in my little pink tutu, then you took my hand and we went through the arch together for the father daughter walk. I still remember the bouquet of roses and baby's breath you brought me after the show, how you picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me home, how you smiled with pride and love. Some days, I'd give anything just to be in that moment one more time.

When I was little, I thought you were the greatest man in the whole world. As I've grown older, I've seen that you had flaws, but that without them, you wouldn't have been you. I still think you were the best person I have ever known. You gave everything to help people, even if you knew that they weren't the best of people, because you believed in second chances. You had a heart bigger than anyone I have ever known, and you followed it everywhere. No matter how bad off things were for you, you would always be willing to help others out with their bills and you made sure most of them got food in their bellies. You weren't a saint, but I think most people saw you that way. Fact was, Dad, you were a pillar in this community, and not many people can say that they honestly haven't met you. For so many, you were a life saver.

There were so many things that I never said, because I always thought you were invincible. I kind of just thought you were one of those timeless people, someone who would never die or grow old, despite that magnificent head of silver hair you had since I was little. Goodness knows I probably gave you half of them, wild as I was growing up. I think Mom thought the same thing, really. Even though you'd been separated for years, she still loved you with everything she had. And despite your love/hate relationship, she would have gone to the ends of the earth for you. And even though you never would have accepted it, I would have too. You raised me to be the person I am now, and you shaped me in more ways than I think you ever knew.

My very first memory was of you. When I was maybe two or so, I remember you tickling me. It's hazy, but it's one of my fondest. I know that I'm not biologically yours, but in every other way, I was. I'm Italian American because you raised me to be. I'm hot-headed, I'm sassy, and I'm always one to give to others when they need it because that was what you taught me without saying it. You took me in as yours before I was more than a tadpole in Mom's belly, and you gave me every opportunity that you never had, and you spoiled me rotten and knew it. I was the apple of your eye, and nobody could deny that. You made it to every single concert, every show, every event, even though you often skipped important meetings and such to be there. You let me bring the stray cats around the whole city in and care for them, and you nursed my skills of taming them by teaching me how to be patient and let them come to me. You never yelled at me, you never got mad, but that stubborn nature of yours truly passed down to me, especially how you showed me not to let people ever take advantage of me. You showed me that I was worth more than that, and you made me see that I should never let people walk all over me. You raised me to be independent, and you never spoke to me like a child, and you showed me that maturity didn't mean age.

Dad, there was so much I never got to say to you. The older I got, the more you meant to me. You stood by me through the hardest points in my life, and I have never respected anyone as much as I respect you for letting me find things out on my own. You knew who my biological father was, you knew he would hurt me in the end, but you let me figure that out on my own because you knew I had to. You knew me better than anyone in that way, and I regret nothing as much as I regret wasting that year with him instead of spending it with you. Had I known, god, had I known how little time I had, I never would have made that mistake. You're a better man than anyone by far for everything you put up with from me, no matter how much it hurt seeing me calling him Dad instead of you, then holding me as I cried when he broke my heart. I don't know how you did it. I know I couldn't have.

I wish I'd had the time to do what I'd been wanting to for a long time before you died. I never got to ask you to officially adopt me. I was going to, you know, I was going to call you that week before I heard about your heart attack. I was going to take you out to Dunkin' Donuts, your favorite place to eat out for some silly reason, and ask you to legally become my Dad, sign my birth certificate, and be my Dad not just in our eyes, but in the law's too. I had finally worked up the nerve to do it, too. It took me months, Dad.

And then I came home, and Mom told me, and everything around me seemed to just come crashing down. The first thing I did was throw on my sneakers and try to run from it. But no matter how far or fast I ran, I couldn't escape the fact that you were gone. So suddenly, so unexpectedly, the man who raised me as his own was gone. I never got to see you again. I never got to tell you how much I loved you, how much I appreciated you, how much I wanted for everything to just be okay for you again. You always tried to hide how hard things were for you, but I knew, I always knew.

I found out later that you'd had a massive heart attack. Three of your arteries were blocked. You went fast, you weren't in much pain, and that there was nothing that could have been done. At least I couldn't blame myself for not being there. Not that I didn't, because someone should have been there to hold you as you died. You shouldn’t have been alone. For every hand you held, every life you saved, every person you kept safe and warm, you deserved someone to hold you in your final minutes.

It took me a long time to come back to this. I started it months ago, but it just hurt too much to continue writing it. Some days I think of you and smile, others I can’t stop crying. I can hardly believe it’s been a year without you now. I still miss that enigmatic smile of yours, how you’d say my name, the way you’d always insist on things in your stubborn Italian way. There’s so much I wish you could have seen before you went. So many big points in my life that I wanted to share with you, moments that you’d have been so proud of but never got to see. My graduation, my first boyfriend. My wedding. My kids. So many plans that never got to come to light because you left us too early. It wasn’t your fault, I was never angry at you for that. I don’t see how I could ever be angry at someone so full of life, so purely good. There wasn’t a mean bone in your body, especially not towards me. You spoiled me instead. If only you’d spoiled me with your presence for just a little longer.

It gets easier, going on without you. The older I get, the more I appreciate everything you did and the sixteen years I had with you. They weren’t nearly enough, but at least I had them. Any minute with you was worth it. My boyfriend once told me, when I was in tears that you’d never met him, that he didn’t need to meet you. “There’s so much of him in you that I get to meet him every day. It’s like I already know him.” You would have loved him, Dad. You’d’ve threatened to kill him if he ever hurt me, but he’s done everything but. He’s always the one holding me when I miss you, Dad. He was there on your one year anniversary, and every day since that I’ve grieved over you. When you’re finally buried, he’s promised we can go there whenever, whether it’s two in the morning or two in the afternoon. You deserve to be at rest, and I’m so sorry you aren’t there already. If there was ever anyone who deserved a peaceful place to lay, it was you.

I know I’ll be okay, and that in time, the damage losing you has done to me will fade. One day I’ll sleep on my own without nightmares, and he’ll be able to leave without me going into a panic attack. One day, I won’t be so terrified of loss, and I’ll be able to run my fingers over your gravestone with a smile on my face. And he’ll be there, right beside me, giving you a nod for raising the woman he’s so in love with. Thanking you for being the man in my life before him, for teaching me to find the right guy from the start. And when it comes time, I know I’ll see you again. But I’m not alone anymore, and waiting is easier when there’s someone else to do it with you.

Until then, Dad. I love you.