So I guess since it’s the week of Christmas, I’ll write this
post. It’s for my Dad. I used to write a lot as a teenager so I’ll just write
this open letter to him. Maybe it will help someone struggling with depression,
mourning, or well life in general.
Dad,
It’s been about a year and a half since you left us. Since
then, I did that strongman competition that I was training for when I saw you
last. I came in last, but I didn’t quit. I did the whole competition just like
I said I would. I’m still working part-time as well and the hours are long, but
I still keep change in my pocket like you always said to. I don’t work at the
same place though, I work at Texas Roadhouse now. They make steaks and ribs. A
lot of times when I make the ribs, I think of you when I’m putting diamonds on
them and I can hear you telling me they are ‘sweetest things you ever wanna see’.
Everyone there is great. My manager is a great guy that understands how to
treat people as well as his employees. He runs the restaurant exactly how I
would if I were still in management. That’s why I stay there. He looks out for
me and how I could get run down. He checks in with me to see if I’m good from
time to time. Wish you could have met Joe. He’s a great person and an even
better boss.
I went back to playing football too! I did exactly what we
talked about. I played for a team that played the Sabercats. We split the
series. Not to toot my own horn but Dad, I did great. I really did. I played my
heart out. I ran hard, tackled hard, and cried hard. The coaches, the team, the owners all care about each other. It was
such a welcoming atmosphere that I’m going back for another year.
The kids are doing so great. Da’lin is in high school now!
Can you believe it?!?!?! He turned his grades around and is taking THREE honors
classes!! He’s come into his own Dad. He
is a great personality mix of you and me. He has my sense of style and your
tact. He says whatever hits his mind (like you did) and he doesn’t even realize
that it’s exactly like you. He’s on his way to being a responsible, caring, and
reliable young man that knows family comes first. I’m proud to call him my son.
I tell him I love him every time we talk. Side note, I know you never said it
to me, but I know you did. Miri is big into dancing and acting now. We signed
her up for hip hop classes about a year ago and Dad, I have to say… she is so
good at it. You’d have come to her show last year. She did awesome. She loves
it so much. Remember when I played sax in the beginning? How my eyes lit up
when I’d start playing? Miri is just like that dancing. She is just amazing.
They don’t talk about you much at least not to me, but maybe to Lindsey. Da’lin
will be driving in just over a year!! I wish you were here so you could see him
driving. You’d be so shocked to see it. I know you would. They are getting so
big Dad. Really. Also, I hope you met Anthony up there. He would be 18 now. As I told you on your deathbed, he's my oldest and he passed at 3 days old. Mom doesn't even know I don't think.
I finally got a Cadillac too! A 2003 Deville. Your cane and hat are in the back seat. It reminds me of the last time I saw you every time I look there. I know you must laugh every time you see me get in it.
It’s hard for me to say this, but there isn’t a day that
goes by that I don’t think about joining you. Life is so hard without you and I
carry a smile with a kind word for everyone I see, but you are my best friend
and knowing I can’t see you is the hardest thing in my life. I’ve spent the
past year and a half resenting… let me rephrase LOATHING myself because you’re
not here. I didn’t go to see you in the hospital before you were put on life
support because I was too weak. My heart couldn’t take seeing you like that. I
look at your picture everyday at work and I think about all our fights we had,
the things I said in life… and I’m sorry. I wish I could take them back but I
can’t. All I can do is tell everyone I know to make amends as much as possible
with those that matter. So Dad, I have to leave you with this…
The last day I saw you, I went to the gym to train and left
you. You were in my rearview. The last image I have of you alive is in my
rearview. I haven’t trained seriously since. I hate myself for choosing
training over you and spending time with you. This year, I have to let it go.
For Christmas, I’m letting resentment go and picking up the weights. I’m
letting go of anger and picking up faith. Faith that I can do what I originally
set out to do. We had many fights when I was growing up. That is true. We had a
friendship filled with love and laughs the past decades and I will cherish
those. I know you’d want me to get over it. To do everything I can to be a
better father, friend, and person. I’ll be 37 in a little over a month. I’ve
let my life go for long enough. I can carry you in my heart, but the regret has
to go. Starting tomorrow Dad, I'm going to start training again. I want to compete again. I'm meeting great people that are into the same sport of strongman and I am feeling the itch. I feel better knowing them. I feel like you may have had a small part in meeting Lindsay, Aaron, Dave, and of course... you met Nick. I have to get back to the positive. Reckless abandon Dad. The negative has to go. Negative people, negative thoughts. I hope that you'll remind me to get rid of the negativity and things that are bad for me at every turn. We had a great run Dad. A GREAT run. I’m going to live my life to the
fullest and be the father that you taught me to be. I’ll keep some change in my
pocket, keep my kids laughing, keep my family first, speak my mind regardless
if people want to hear it or not, and put in my 8 then go home. Until then… I’m
just a work in progress. I want to show you the last picture I took of us.
I love you Dad,
Danny
As always… comment, share, whatever.
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