Dad,
You’ve been gone almost 9 months to the day, and I’ve been doing great. Work could not be better and my apartment is so beautiful now that we’re heading into fall. A couple months ago, I met a boy who instantly swept me off my feet. He is tall, smart, handsome, outspoken and opinionated, just as you would like.
He knows about you, but not in too much detail. I don’t know if I think it’s because he would feel weird about me talking about my dead father, or if it’s because I will just instantly start crying. Through our conversations, I’ve done a good job of saying things like “my mom” instead of my parents, or talking about you in the past tense.
These things make me sad, but I want to be brave and mature.
Last weekend he took me to a diner in his new neighbourhood for brunch. You loved diners. I used to roll my eyes at every diner we would stop at on every family road trip, but even though I never told you, I started to enjoy our family diner adventures. As soon as I stepped inside, everything came flooding back. The old décor, the faint music being drowned out by the television news program, the bottomless cups of coffee and the homemade breakfast. I could instantly hear you say “coffee black, two eggs, sunny side up, sausage, home fries, white toast, side of extra crispy bacon for me.”
I want to tell him about you. I want him to know how hilarious and wonderful you were. I want you to meet him and give him that judgmental glare, and then tease me about “ouuuuuu you want to kiiissss him” after he leaves. I want you to grill him over dinner. I want you around to offer him a whiskey and coke as a sign of your approval.
I think about loving him, but I want you to love him too. How do I give someone all of me, without you being here?
I love you,
Sarebear.
