Page 142 of Last Letters to Ara
It kills me to know that you had to be alone last year, but I couldn’t stand the thought of the memories of me fighting a losing battle overtaking the good ones which came before.
Although you were alone last year, I imagine this year may be even harder. It’s the first holiday where you know I won’t be there for another, but hopefully (I’m looking at you, Universe) you won’t be spending it alone.
This time of year is supposed to be a time of joy, food, and celebration. For you and many others it’s also a time of sadness, missing those who you wish were there. It’s sad for me, too. I can’t accept that Thanksgiving will go by and I won’t be able to cook for you, that Christmas will come and we won’t be watching an array of bad movies just because it’s tradition.
I would ask you not to be sad, but I know that’s impossible, and I don’t want you burying your feelings. So, instead I’m asking you to take a day. Take a day to listen to sad music and look at our pictures and cry if you need to. But once you’re done, you have to promise me that you will do your best to smile again.
I want you to remember what you’re grateful for, which leads me to one of your tasks for this month. Take a moment to appreciate the things you feel thankful for, whether it’s a person, something you feel honored to have, or just a memory you treasure.
The second task is to find a really good meal (it doesn’t have to go in that order). I’m not going to delude myself into thinking you’re going to cook. Even if I forced you to learn, I know that you’d be miserable the entire time and never do it again. So, just find a good meal. McDonald’s (or anything available through a drive-thru) strictly does not count.
I guess that’s all I came here to say. I’ve been sitting here, staring at what I’ve written for almost an hour now, not knowing what else to write. These letters are difficult for me, but I’ve been wondering why this one has been the hardest of them all.
Then I remembered that this is the eleventh letter, meaning the next one is number twelve, and the last for…a while. I won’t be able to put off writing it for much longer. Until then, I guess I should finish this letter by telling you what I’m thankful for.
I’m thankful for having found a career which allowed me to enjoy going to work every day. I’m thankful for being able to know love the way I knew it with your mother. I’m thankful for learning about loss so I could appreciate what I had. I’m thankful for the home I built for us and the life we lived within it.
And most of all, I’m thankful for everything which ever happened, that led to me becoming your dad. You have always been my greatest joy, my greatest love, and my greatest accomplishment.
Thank you for picking me.
Love,
Dad
I gently set the letter to the side before the tears start to fall and splash over the page. With the rush of everything going on, I haven’t stopped tofeelin a while. Dad is right, I have so much to be thankful for, but I’m going to save that for later. Right now, I’m going to take the day.
My phone is heavy in my hand as I click play on the playlist I made, full of Classic Rock songs which were our favorites. I haven’t listened to it since the last time we were together. After I found out he was gone, I didn’t want to sink myself into a hole so deep I wouldn’t climb out.
After months of healing and moving on, I need to feel it. I need to feel what it’s going to be like to eat food that wasn’t cooked by him on Thanksgiving. I need to process that I won’t be drinking hot chocolate with him on Christmas Eve. I won’t be opening presents with him on Christmas morning, or falling asleep on his couch before midnight on New Year’s Eve. That when the day comes that I walk down the aisle, my dad won’t be there to hand me off.
I let myself feel it all, song after song.
Ihavebeen healing. I’ve gone back out in the world, found love, friendship, joy, and even success, but that doesn’t mean the wide gaping hole which he left will ever be filled.
I willalwaysmiss my dad.
There won’t be a holiday or birthday or day of the week that passes where I won’t wish he were there. It gets easier with time, but part of it is allowing yourself to feel the loss and the pain that comes with it.
I let myself cry and cry and cry and cry. Eventually the snot running down my face becomes too much. My eyes are swollen, and I need a tissue more than I need a liver right now.
Walking into the kitchen as quietly as possible, I pull a few out of the box before realizing I should just grab the entire thing. Suddenly, I feel eyes on me. Both guys have looked up from their video game, staring at me. I’m not sure who does it, but someone clicks exit immediately. My eyes widen, knowing that it was one of their online games, and exiting in the middle of a game is a huge no-no.
If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is. The thought has my tears falling again.
Theo stands up first and walks over, taking me into a silent embrace and kissing the top of my head as the tears turn into sobs. Then, another set of limbs wrap around us, giving us another squeeze. My swollen eyes manage to open enough, despite being smushed against Theo’s chest, to see Connor looking pretty emotional for someone who “doesn’t do” feelings.
My crying slowly stops, replaced by a quiet comfort.
Then, from Connor, sniffling, “Who the fuck brought pollen into the house?”
Theo laughs against my hair. “It’s fall, you idiot.”
I smile.
With my family.
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