Letter to Dad, No. 4

Hi Dad.

I still miss you so much. The world is so much lonelier without you. It really is. Everything is. Walking down the street, going to the store. But sometimes, truth be told, when I'm exhausted, I wonder how I would have kept up with taking care of you and all you needed, even though I didn't live with you. But that doesn't mean I don't still want you here.

When Sug waits at the door, sitting on her white fur tail and following me with her shiny black eyes when I park the cars at night, it reminds me of you or Mommy, of a parent who watches out for a child. The powder puff stays on the alert until I'm back in--as if her tiny self could actually protect me if something went wrong, like a burglar leaping out of the bushes.

It is so strange not to be able to talk to you. Tonight, when I was walking Sug, I looked up at the moon. I stopped for a second to pick up a water bottle someone had left, so I could recycle it. Sug stopped too, looking intelligent, and I remembered how you and I used to laugh and laugh over how smart or not smart she was. Then I started to cry.

I hate that I can't see you again. It feels so unfair. There's still so much left to tell you. In some ways, I haven't even begun.

But of course, I have. We were so close, and we talked about so many things. I am so grateful for that. I hold your wisdom, your humor, your optimism in my heart.

Well, Dad, I guess I better go to sleep now. Good night.

Love always, 

Al

TCOY

1. Boot camp in broiling heat at park.
2. Stared down Twinkies at store when buying groceries for dinner.
3. Made fresh, healthy meal--tomato, goat cheese and thyme quiche and salad. 
4. Served nicely with candlelight and ice water and melon for Fig, too.
5. Walked Sug on loop around Bradford School.