A Letter From Dad

When I was a kid I practiced wrapping diapers around my sisters’ baby dolls. My mother taught me how to take care of my younger siblings, but even as they grew independent I still held the desire to care for a child. I couldn’t express this desire to my friends. It was considered “women’s work” to care for the home. Not wanting to be labeled a pansy or sissy, I just kept my fatherly ambitions to myself. 

When I met your mother I knew she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I just don’t think God agreed with me. After dating for five months, she started feeling really weak and couldn’t build an appetite. The doctors said it was only stage one and that she had good odds. Once she was in remission we wasted no time. We didn’t even bother with getting married, we both just wanted a son or daughter so much. But you took your time. The doctors had to induce labour when it was two weeks past your due date. You were stubborn from the beginning. 

I am so sorry that you had to grow up without a mother. You may have been too young to remember, but she had the ability to get you to stop crying so quickly. I tried all the same techniques as her, but I just couldn’t do them right. That became more and more apparent as you grew older. 

There is so much of her in you. Your ambition, your wittiness; I hope you got something good from me, at least. I wish I could have given you more, I wanted to give you more. More time, more attention. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

Do you remember that ballet recital, when you were six? We were meant to do the father daughter dance routine together, but I had missed so many rehearsals with your dance teacher and all the other dads that I couldn’t perform it with you. I think that might have been one of my greatest regrets as your father. Can you believe that? Out of all my other failings to you, that is the strongest memory that comes to mind. We didn’t even try to do the dance the next year.

I can say I don’t regret making you stay home for your junior prom. Oh, you were so livid! But you’re fever spiked to 103 that night. I kept the corsage your date brought you that night. It’s sitting in the attic with the flowers from your mother’s funeral. Do you remember his name? I just remember he was a scrawny guy standing next to you. At least we were able to get pictures of you in your dress. I know you complain about them, but you still looked stunning.

My favorite photo of you will always be the one on the fridge, where you fell asleep on an innertube at the beach, sunglasses and sunhat askew, while your mother sits behind, looking over her shoulder at the waves breaking on the shore. I don’t know if I ever told you but we weren’t meant to stop by the beach that day. We were driving to visit my Aunt Peggy who lived near the coast. She complained that we’d had a baby for two years now and hadn’t managed to bring you by for a visit. 

Our car broke down and we called for a tow truck. You kept asking, ‘What that? What?’ and we kept pointing out things around the side of the road. 

‘A bottle? A rock?’ That tumbleweed?’ 

‘No’ you said, ‘That,’ then you pointed to your ears and we listened. 

Just past the sound of the few cars passing by us, we could hear the ocean, or how you came to call it, ‘Oh shine’. The towing company would take up to an hour to reach us. Aunt Peggy liked living in the most inconvenient places. So we walked over the sand dunes and found a place amongst discarded items. Do you still remember that day?

For how crotchety Aunt Peggy was, she was a huge support to our family up until she passed. We almost named you after her, did you know that? Your mother was a fan of keeping names within the family, but I grew up near a family that raised pigs for slaughter, and they’d name any males “Pete”s and any females “Peggy”. I just couldn’t understand raising a creature knowing that you would slaughter them, and giving them a name, as if they are part of your family. 

This will be my first father’s day without you. Despite all of the fighting or miscommunication between us, we never missed a Christmas, Father’s day, or your Mother’s birthday. I suppose it doesn’t count as too much of a credit to spend three holidays together when two of them are on the same day. That was one of the few things your mother and I disagreed about. She hated decorating for Christmas, because she didn’t like having her birthday associated with green, and red. She wanted to have bright, colorful decorations, with varying flowers and streamers to celebrate her day of birth. If I brought up that we can just celebrate her birthday in a different month, she’d argue, 

“Jesus wasn’t even born in December! Make Him move his day instead of me.” 

I still can’t get the taste of ice cream birthday cake out of my head whenever I hear Christmas jingles. 

It will be right before your birthday when I can see you again, and I asked if I could bring you a cake. They said it would have to be a personal-sized cake, and that you’d have to eat it during our visit, that you aren’t allowed to take it back with you to save for later. Is chocolate cake with vanilla frosting still your favorite? I spoke to your lawyer yesterday and she said you have a good chance of receiving the minimum amount of time, so that is good news. But I don’t want you to worry about that, I will take care of it all. I’ll be just outside those doors as soon as you are released.

I know you made some mistakes, but I did too. It feels like I’m always running late and you are constantly kept waiting for me to catch up. All I ever wanted was to be a dad, but I never questioned if what I was doing was best for you, or for me. No matter the circumstances I will not give up on you.

Anyway, that is all I have to say right now. I love you baby girl. Please write back soon.

-Dad