Dear Daddy,
Today, you would have been eighty-six years old had you not left us, far too soon, a little over two years ago now. From the time we were small until Mama passed away thirteen months before you, you always chose, as fathers often do (especially fathers of yours, the Greatest Generation), to play second fiddle, to be the supporting cast, to stay one step out of the limelight in our family circus. You were contented, or at least you always seemed to be, with Mama being the star, the center of our attention, the hub of our family's culture and activities. On those rare occasions, when you would answer the phone whenever we called in years after we had all left the nest, you would greet us very briefly and even a little uncomfortably before saying, "Hang on, let me let you speak to your Mama," as though you assumed that we really only called to talk to her anyway. You were always humble, often retiring, and sometimes even servile in your demeanor. But all along, you were our anchor, her rock, and all the while you were an unwilling star awaiting your stage. Once Mama left us, you seized center stage, perhaps if only to fill the void in your heart that she had left behind, and you had your time to shine as the family focal point. It was a most blessed thirteen months, and as I said, your shining moment ended far too soon for the four of us. We came to know you and love you in an even deeper way during those few, precious months than we had during the previous decades.
During these past two years since you left to be with Mama, I have missed you terribly. While I always respected and looked up to you, your stature has grown exponentially in the pages of my memory. I realize more and more, with the passage of each day, what a very, very special man and father that you were. Over the years, Mama did indeed dominate my bond to you as parents, and I will always cherish the very deep, unqualified, love that we shared over the fifty years that I had her in my life. But those thirteen final months of your life, talking to you on the phone almost nightly, spending time together, just the two of us, with you as the marquee attraction, those few months are seared indelibly on my heart and in my mind. While I dearly cherish that time and cling to it, I feel regretful that there wasn't more before you left and that I didn't seize more time to be with you over the years. Hardly a day passes that I don't think of you, miss you, want for you, and wish that I could talk to you again. Happy Birthday, Daddy...you were always...and remain to this day...my hero. I love you, Pop.
Me
Today, you would have been eighty-six years old had you not left us, far too soon, a little over two years ago now. From the time we were small until Mama passed away thirteen months before you, you always chose, as fathers often do (especially fathers of yours, the Greatest Generation), to play second fiddle, to be the supporting cast, to stay one step out of the limelight in our family circus. You were contented, or at least you always seemed to be, with Mama being the star, the center of our attention, the hub of our family's culture and activities. On those rare occasions, when you would answer the phone whenever we called in years after we had all left the nest, you would greet us very briefly and even a little uncomfortably before saying, "Hang on, let me let you speak to your Mama," as though you assumed that we really only called to talk to her anyway. You were always humble, often retiring, and sometimes even servile in your demeanor. But all along, you were our anchor, her rock, and all the while you were an unwilling star awaiting your stage. Once Mama left us, you seized center stage, perhaps if only to fill the void in your heart that she had left behind, and you had your time to shine as the family focal point. It was a most blessed thirteen months, and as I said, your shining moment ended far too soon for the four of us. We came to know you and love you in an even deeper way during those few, precious months than we had during the previous decades.
During these past two years since you left to be with Mama, I have missed you terribly. While I always respected and looked up to you, your stature has grown exponentially in the pages of my memory. I realize more and more, with the passage of each day, what a very, very special man and father that you were. Over the years, Mama did indeed dominate my bond to you as parents, and I will always cherish the very deep, unqualified, love that we shared over the fifty years that I had her in my life. But those thirteen final months of your life, talking to you on the phone almost nightly, spending time together, just the two of us, with you as the marquee attraction, those few months are seared indelibly on my heart and in my mind. While I dearly cherish that time and cling to it, I feel regretful that there wasn't more before you left and that I didn't seize more time to be with you over the years. Hardly a day passes that I don't think of you, miss you, want for you, and wish that I could talk to you again. Happy Birthday, Daddy...you were always...and remain to this day...my hero. I love you, Pop.
Me
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