dad
Dear Dad,
Happy Father’s Day. Where the hell are you?! Because you’re not here and it’s extremely painful. I never knew what it really felt like to miss someone until I lost you.
When Morgan died, it drove me crazy when Mom would talk about how she thought he was going to come back and walk through the front door one day. I never understood her thought process and it made me mad. We were all there and saw him pass away. How in the world does she think he’s coming back?
Well, Dad, now I know what she was talking about. I still think you’re going to come back to us, somehow, someway. I don’t know how we can possibly keep living without you. I guess this is grief & mourning. Most days when I’m walking home from work I have a split second moment where I think “I’ll call Dad!” And then I remember that I can’t. And my heart breaks all over again.
So what’s a daughter to do on Father’s Day when she’s in dire need of more emotional pain? Well of course write everything she misses about you, Dad!
I miss...
Your epically short and sweet voicemails. “Hey Mack, it’s Dad. Give me a shout!”
Your excitement when I call back, telling me all about business, golf & Mom but mostly when I’m fielding your endless questions about what’s happening in my life since we last spoke.
Your take on the Gap stock market action.
Your guidance in tough situations.
Your trust in my decision making.
Your respect of my opinions.
Your encouragement before every challenge.
Your attention to detail within everything you do.
Your organization from the basement to the attic and everywhere in between.
Your hugs.
Your extremely long winded stories.
Your quick wit and dry one liners.
Your close talking.
Your unlimited handyman capabilities.
Your ability to be calm, cool & collected in stressful situations, except for when you’re docking a boat.
Your first question when I call you right after I get into a car accident. “Are you safe and ok?”
Your weekend breakfast spreads.
Your passion for hosting friends & family. Always love a party.
Your insane ability to always have a stocked bar filled with your guests preferred drinks.
Your love of the service industry.
Your patience.
Your honest opinion in my wardrobe selection.
Your smile.
Your evolving athleticism with age.
Your generosity.
Your memory of absolutely every person you’ve met in your life - face & name.
Your interest in every restaurant I go to and my food & ambiance review.
Your openness to my dish suggestions at Lambertville & Mike’s, yet they are never actually added.
Your celebratory status at Huntington Valley; once a president, always a president.
Your signature move of standing up every time a woman leaves and returns to a table.
Your lack of pointing out my expenses on the “emergency credit card.”
Your way of always finding a reason to go for the more expensive option of anything. “Something must be wrong with it if it’s on sale.”
Your polite honestly when I give you a gift you find a reason to return.
Your savvy kitchen moves.
Your love of summer, the beach & the grill.
Your tan!!!
Your expertise in creating the perfect caravan to the beach. Or as I call it, a circus.
Your talent in finding the ideal beach spot, in perfect vicinity to all the people you want to run into.
Your days floating in the pool in Warrington.
Your compliments on my swimsuits, always asking if they are my friend Gabby’s brand.
Your charisma.
Your desire for me to travel and see the world as you search my whereabouts on the Life360 app.
Your knowledge of apps I’ve never heard of.
Your reminders to put the new insurance & registrations cards in the car.
Your innate sense of wind direction. I will never understand how you figure out they are NE winds but I will always believe you.
Your ability to be the neutral ground in tense situations aka fights between me and mom.
Your love for the dogs even though they drive you crazy.
Your ridiculous connection with Mikie.
Your love for Mom.
Your same identical breakfast order at any diner.
Your khaki uniform.
Your way of looking on the bright side.
The list goes on...
I guess one of the other big things I miss is your selflessness.
I missed Father’s Day with you last year. I had a wedding out of town and you couldn’t be more excited for me to be visiting a place I’ve never been. It was all about where I was and what I was seeing and how much fun I was having. You could have cared less about a silly marketing holiday. Your children’s happiness was always most important to you. That’s what made you the best Dad.
I love you so much and would do anything just to have one more day with you. One more day at the beach, one more dinner at Steve & Cookies, one more lesson on the driving range, one more car ride from the train station, one more Father’s Day, one more opportunity to tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me.
Love you,
Mackenzie