Page 148 of Last Letters to Ara
I take my letter to my design room, closing the door softly behind me and open it up.
Dear Ara,
Merry (early) Christmas. I know it’s still a couple weeks away, but I hope you find it in yourself to celebrate, to make your own traditions this year, and to find joy in whatever you decide to do.
Although this is the last letter for a while, I want to start off by saying that this is not goodbye. I’ve decided that I’ll never say goodbye. I refuse to believe that this is where it ends for me.
The universe certainly wouldn’t be cruel enough to design us in a way that after everything it puts us through, we disappear into nothing in the end. I think it gives us another shot to come back and try again. That said, I know this body doesn’t have much longer, which means I’ve got to finish what I’ve started here.
With this being my last task, I will finally share my biggest regret, which is that I never gave myself more than one chance at love. I’d blamed it on the fact that if I’d found it again, it would mean that what I’d had with your mother wouldn’t be as special. I’d blamed it on the fact that it would be unfair to you to bring someone into your life who wasn’t your mother, because it should have been her who got to raise you.
Except I know now that your mother would have wanted me to love again, and I know you would have accepted it, had I found someone who brought me happiness. It was nobody but myself keeping it out of reach. It was my own fear of the unknown which prevented it.
I decided to leave this as your last task, because it probably won’t happen overnight. In fact, I’d be worried if it did.
I want you to find love, Ara.
I want you to find real, true love. Someone who will love you at your worst and celebrate you at your best. Someone who gives you courage when you need it. Someone who doesn’t walk away when the going gets tough. Someone you’d want by your side for every battle that life sends your way.
Don’t be afraid to put your heart on the line.
Any hurt you experience along the way will be worth it.
Before I end this letter, I have one more request.
Please don’t worry about me.
Unlike many others, I’ve been gifted the time to prepare and come to terms with the fact that my time has come. I can accept it now, knowing that I’ve gotten the chance to do what I could for you. To help you overcome your grief and find joy again. I can only hope that what I’ve done is enough.
I love you so much, Ara.
I am so proud of you.
And I miss you more than you can imagine.
Love,
Dad
I take a piece of paper out of my notebook and a pen from my desk and do something I should have done a long time ago.
Dear Dad,
I miss you, too.
I should have written this years ago. Not because I thought one day you wouldn’t be around. In fact, it had never even occurred to me that something could happen to you, but because I’m not very good at saying the mushy stuff out loud. You know that, because I got it from you.
Our bond has always been stronger than mere words anyway, and I would have never been able to get through saying all this without crying my eyes out, the way I’ve been doing throughout the months leading up to this letter.
I want to tell you that I understand why you didn’t tell me, and I’m not angry with you. The pain you must have gone through is unimaginable, and I can’t even conceive how horrible it would have been to see you in that state, feeling helpless.
I would have done my best to put on a good face and be brave like you, but you would have seen through it. When I look back on our time together, all I see are the best times. I’d like to think that being there for you at the end wouldn’t have changed that, but that pain changes people forever. It would have changed me forever.
You did everything right, and I know you fought every battle with bravery.
I’m not writing this letter to say goodbye, either. In fact, I can’t physically bring myself to say those words because then it makes it real. Even now, I still have hope of seeing you again. Because if I didn’t, well, then, I don’t know, I just can’t imagine my world without you in it.
So, I guess I’m writing this letter to say thank you. You lived an incredible life, so quiet about your kindness, your intelligence, and ability to make someone laugh. You saved the best bits of yourself for the ones who mattered most, and I will treasure that forever.
