My old man passed a year ago. I wrote this for him last night…
Hey, Dad. Just wanted to check-in.
Things are good. Siria is still happy she’s married to me, ha! You were right when you said, “You won’t do much better than her, son.”
Kids are good. Avery now has a brother and a sister who love her very much. They are all the best people I know. They make me very proud.
I hope it’s nice where you are. I hope it’s peaceful and loving and warm. I hope you get to hear some Handel, as well as Willie and Waylon. I hope they let you watch “Columbo.” I hope you can still go out on the bay, and smell the soft breezes skimming across the Chesapeake. I hope there’s a little beer for you. I hope you are smiling.
Something weird has happened, and I wanted to leave you with this, until next October:
You remember all those years, when I was young, and I tried so hard to not be you? Remember how proud I was that I wasn’t you, and I never wanted to be you? I am so sorry for that. I was a freaking idiot. I bet that really hurt you. It would hurt me, too.
The thing is, Dad, the older I get…
…the more I want to be you. I strive to be you, for my wife, and my kids. I want to be who you were. I want to be the old guy, with the twinkle in his eye, whom everyone drifts to when they’re feeling down. You always saw the glass half-full, and that made all the difference. And I want to be that for my family.
I want to be you.
I hope I pull it off. Maybe, if you can, wherever you are, you could give me a bit of a nudge and a wink when I’m heading in the right direction…?
I love you, Dad. That’s all for now.
I am proud to be your son.
I’ll talk to you at Christmastime,