This is probably one of the most honest things I’ve ever written, and it almost feels cliche to post it to the blog, but it seems appropriate for Father’s Day.: My Dad is fine now, but that night at 4am was scary and we didn’t know what was going to happen.: This is how I dealt with it.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.: I love you.
Dear Dad,
It’s 4am on Sunday, May 3rd, and you’re sitting in a hospital.: You’re hundreds of miles away and I can’t stop thinking about you.: I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to write this letter.: Over the years there’s so many things that we’ve said to each other, but there is one thing that I have never said enough, I love you.
I love you for helping me to grow up to be a man.: While I wasn’t lucky enough to get your eyesight (I guess not all of us can have better than 20/20 vision) I did get your math-mind, and a bit of your work ethic.: You are one of the hardest working people I know, you’ll work 16 hours a day and not even bat an eye.: I also got your desire to just get things done; to finish a project, no matter how long it takes, or how close it is to Thanksgiving dinner when people are on their way over.
I love you for all of the things you’ve taught me.: You taught me golf, and I swear I’ll actually beat you one of these days.: I remember when we’d go bowling, and even though I have a smooth roll, I couldn’t knock ’em down like you.: I remember learning Euchre; you’ve always been good at that.: How you know what card David or I are going to turn up, I don’t know, but you always know.: I wish I had learned your ability to cook, I still think about London broil that you would make, always so good the day after.
I love you for your support.: You were one of the first ones to fully support me in soccer, in comedy, and in moving to New York.: You were always there at my soccer games, a great person of support on the sidelines, as I ran up and down the field like a preying mantis.: And you were there after comedy shows, telling me what you thought was funny, and laughing even when I embellished my childhood in the stories I told.: You always tell me, without a doubt in your mind, that I will be successful, that I’ll go on and make it at whatever it is that I choose.
I love you for your strength, your support, your encouragement.: I love you for what you’ve taught me, shown me, and told me.: I love you for the values you instilled in me, the character you’ve helped give me, and for helping me become the man I am today.
I guess I also inherited your hard exterior, and I think it’s why I’m writing this letter.: We were never ones to be highly emotional–I guess Mom did enough of that for both of us (just kidding, Mom).: My friends joke about how I never seem to be affected by things, that I’m always able to think clearly and rationally.: Usually that’s a pretty good thing; I’m able to keep a level head, not get angry, and I always try to think about what’s best.: But unfortunately it also means that I don’t always say what needs to be said.: And while one letter will never be enough to tell you how much I care for you, or appreciate you for everything you’ve done, at least it’s a start, right?
So as you sit in the hospital hundreds of miles away, I just think about all of that, and how much I owe to you and Mom.: I don’t know what will happen next, but I know we’ll get through this.: You’re such a strong person, one little ol’ heart attack isn’t enough to keep you down.: In fact you’ll probably be trying to go back to work tomorrow.: I know I haven’t said it enough, but know that I love you.: For all of the reasons above, and for so many more, I love you, Dad.
Your son,
Drew
