A letter to my Dad

A letter to my Dad

Dear Dad,

I was reluctant to write this letter to you as I knew I’d be bawling my eyes out.

I can hardly see my screen at this point so it’s fair to say I was right.

It’s been over 10 years since you, quite literally, decided to ghost us, Dad.

I remember how unfazed you were by death and how you would tell us to celebrate the passing of a loved one, since it’s a beautiful thing. Needless to say you weren’t afraid to die.

You weren’t afraid of anything.

You were the strongest person I’ve ever known, both physically and mentally.

It’s in our human nature to put people on this invisible pedestal once we stop having access to them. I, too, am guilty of this. However, I also distinctly remember how I would obsessively replay memories in my head in the hopes of breaking apart this idealized mental image of you. It was an attempt to bottle up my emotions and downplay what happened.

For months, I ignored that massive elephant in the room that quietly trailed me, waiting to crush me as soon as I opened my mouth to address the pain. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t find the courage to talk about what happened for the longest time as I knew I was physically incapable of witnessing the exact moment you died in the minds of others, too. As mad as it sounds, I liked the idea of being a part of a reality where you were still alive in everyone’s mind as long as I didn’t pull the trigger and share the news.

The cost of staying silent was obvious. Every emotional bond I had within my immediate circle quietly fell apart as I avoided talking about that one thing that consumed every waking moment of my day.

Instead, I tried to find solace in people who claimed to connect with the non-physical version of you. I went to numerous psychics, numerologists and card readers in the hopes of reconnecting with you. As soon as I sat at the table, all of them would tell me the same thing, “Awh, you brought your dad with you!” What was meant to be soothing, tortured me inside. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t feel you around me. It sounds silly now, but I always secretly hoped to step into a room and see you hovering near the ceiling, ready to have a chat about the afterlife. Yes, I’d probably freak out at first, but I’d imagine everything that followed would have been a very enjoyable experience.

It took me forever to finally understand what they meant — over four years to be exact. I know time is relative in this infinite universe, but on the off chance you were actually waiting for four years for me to finally get the message, I’m sorry it took so long.

I’ll never forget the day I finally got it, though. The epiphany was something else. My heart lights up whenever I think of you, Dad. Ironically, these are the moments when I'm reminded that you never left.

They say the pain never goes away when a loved one dies, but I can’t say this holds true for me. The grief melted away a while ago. What has entered its space is a feeling of upliftment and love whenever I carry you with me in my thoughts.

That being said, I’d give it all up just to have one last chat with you. I’d ask you a million things, but most importantly, I’d make sure to tell you how much I love and respect you and what an incredible father you were. You taught me so many valuable lessons and did a fantastic job in preparing me for the life that was waiting for me out there.

You passed away right when I was about to enter my 20s. This last decade was filled with the most enjoyable memories of my life and my darkest battles to date and while I do believe you were present all this time, it was heart-breaking to know that I could never share these moments with you the way that I once could.

You were the only person who could instantly snap me out of my spiraling thoughts. Our weekly walks leading up to your passing were, for the longest time, the highlight of my week. I could listen to you for hours. All you needed were your Marlboro Golds, your espresso and your Cartier lighter and you were ready to hit me with unfiltered wisdom I was most definitely unprepared to hear but tried to soak up as best as I could.

Even a decade after your passing, your words still linger in my mind. Some things you told me back then only started to make sense after I found myself experiencing the exact thing we talked about.

I cherish our tradition to this day, as I make sure to take you with me every time I go for a walk.

Thank you for being the best dad I could have asked for. Thank you for all the laughter, the lessons and your unconditional love.

Love you forever,

Natati