I had so many ideas about today’s post, but upon waking up this morning, I am feeling numb, like I stubbed my heart on the kitchen table.

It could be the medication that I am currently on has finally succeeded in regulating my emotional output. Or it could be the nagging feeling that I am morbidly hanging onto something that should be let go of after 30 years.

Like my mom said yesterday, on August 19th, she thinks about my dad, talks to him for a bit, and prays for him. Then she goes about her day.

For 30 years, I have managed to ruin this day for myself. I don’t think that my father would be pleased with me.

I’m going to try to do what my mom does.

Of course I am thinking about him, that’s a given.

Hey, dad. It’s me, Merry.

I can’t believe that you’ve been gone for so long. If I could sit on a park bench with you for a little while, I would tell you all about your granddaughter. She’s a great kid, smart, kind, and I know that you would have been delighted to be a grandfather. Danny has 2 kids now, and they are both wonderful kids. His son is named after you. 

As for me, I haven’t done much with my life. I’ve been all kinds of things, as I’m sure you know. But I can’t work anymore because I’m sick, both physically, and mentally. I am still learning to accept it, and trying to be more like you, graceful, and believing in God no matter what.

I still love to write though, and read. It’s what feels natural to me. 


I’ve felt your presence a few times over the years, and have acknowledged the little signs, like when you stole my white colored pencil. I know you’re there, keeping an eye on me.

I pray that you are in heaven, maybe gardening up there, or drinking a Pepsi out of a glass bottle. You can’t do that down here anymore. 

The world has changed so much since you’ve been gone, some for good, some for worse. You missed the dawning of the technological revolution, the internet, smartphones, and video games that look real. It’s not too bad as long as you don’t let it consume your life. I try not to myself, but I worry about future generations. 

I’m not sure what you would think of all of it. Mom loves to play Words with Friends, we play together almost every night from our separate living rooms. I think that you might have enjoyed it too. It’s like Scrabble. 

If you were here, and on Facebook, I would warn you to never read the comments. People are assholes.

Sorry about the language. I’d like to imagine that if you hadn’t passed away, I wouldn’t have such a dirty mouth now. Or maybe I would. Just not around you.

Anyways, just know that as long as I feel that you are listening, I will keep talking to you. I’m doing my best down here, dad. It’s a hard life, but it is also amazing to be alive, despite the pain, and the bad things that happen.

I love you, and miss you. Please stay close by me, if you can.