Dear Daddy,

I miss the days you & I used to write letters to each other back in college.  You'd always send me money and I'd always use it to come home.  I guess even back then I knew that I could always go home--where I was wanted and loved and needed.  Now, I have 3 houses and none of them feel like home yet.  The big house is coming along nicely and I'm blessed to have had so many people's help on it.  I could never have tackled it by myself.  I went to buy a mailbox for it the other day and was giggling because I was going to "establish my residence" finally after so long.  Half way home, I started crying, because it hit me that you'd never get to see it finished.  I know you were always proud of my accomplishments and I always tried to give you reasons to be proud.  I guess I'm still trying to make you proud of me.  I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.  Yesterday, some thief stole my friend's trailer from the back yard.  Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard to be a good person when all the oxygen thieves keep trying twice as hard to take everything away from me.  But, I remember that they are only things and they can be replaced.  You can't.  Seems kind of trivial when you compare the losses, doesn't it, Daddy?  It feels like I take one step forward and get knocked back two all the time these days.  I know you told me that it doesn't matter how many times you get knocked down--you're only as good as the last time you got up from getting knocked down.  I used to have you there to dust me off when I got back up and I feel so alone without you here.  Sometimes, I just want to stay down and take cover, because I feel like I'm getting bombarded.  I know that's cowardly, so I'll keep taking my licks and try to smile even when I feel like I'm drowning.  I know you taught me how to be independent, but I still miss getting your input on the important things in my life.  I didn't realize how much I'd miss it.  I do now.  I miss you, too, and I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you that before you died.  I know I told you I loved you a million times the nine days from the time I told you that you were terminal until the day you died.  I just wish I'd told you now how much I was going to miss you.  I think I was afraid it would make you sad or upset and you'd already suffered enough.  I'm sure you knew from the river of tears that I shed those nine days at your bedside, but I still wish I had said it.  I miss you, Daddy. 

A little old lady came in today & didn't have anyone to call to come get her, so I took her home.  Buddy asked me where she lived and I said, "I have no idea."  He said, "You don't care, either, do you?"  I said, "Nope.  That's someone's mother and probably someone's grandmother.  If it were mine, I'd want someone to help them out."  She gave me a doll she had crocheted for taking her home.  I put it on the mantle to remind me that no matter what life throws at me, there is no excuse to change who I am and who you taught me to be.  Even if my day sucked.  That was my Father's Day gift to you--to be the person you taught me to be.  To help others in need, regardless of how busy or crappy my day has been.  I'm going to help a friend this weekend who needs me.  Even though I won't have much time to work on the big house, I know that people are more important than things and it'll get done when it gets done.  Some things can be put off and I still have my priorities straight.  For the last several months, the words you said to me after I told you you were terminal have been haunting me.  You said, "I have some regrets."  I was shocked, because you didn't live your life with regrets.  You said, "I wish I had finished the house."  I'm sure you meant for Mom, but it sent me into a frenzy about trying to finish the big house. I think I was afraid I'd never get to see it finished.   I've been killing myself every weekend working on it as hard as I could go.  Plus, I needed the distraction.  But, I just realized tonight that the reason you didn't finish your house is because three weeks before you died, someone needed you to fill in and do a seminar and you went and did an eight hour class for him--weak as hell, nauseated, and suffering, I'm sure.  But, that's who you were.  People are more important than things and I'll keep that in mind as I work on the house.  The house can wait. 

I'm making a lot of changes in my life.  I wish I had you here to talk about them.  I gave a friend of mine the Japanese phrases you carried with you on the golf course.  He didn't want to take them, because you had written the English translation below the phrases.  I told him, "It's just a piece of paper with writing on it.  The important thing is that Daddy cared enough about me to learn Japanese because I was learning it.  He did the same thing when I took Spanish and he followed along with me in college when I was studying English Literature."  I know you did it, too, because you wanted to make people feel welcome.  It's the same reason I did it.  I always knew what it felt like to be the new kid and feel like no one understood me.  Sometimes, I still feel that way, even with the people who speak my language. 

Thanks for everything you did for me, Daddy.  If I had three lifetimes to live, I could never repay you for the things you did for me.  Thank you for all the values you instilled in me.  Thank you for always having my back when I needed you.  Thanks for your beautiful, insanely optimistic outlook on life.  You had a heart of gold and this world has suffered a huge loss without you in it. 

I love you & I miss you more than you could know.  Happy Father's Day, Daddy.