Dear Father's of Mine Who Have Passed

I wrote this as a response to Jennifer Pastiloff's post asking for letters to someone alive or passed. It was part of one of her posts to encourage connection between everyone and have us share our stories. I put it in my blog as a draft, and I kept it for some time and I'm not sure why. 

Perhaps because when I wrote it, I wasn't expecting what came out. Or I didn't realize that I was loved by three father figures in my life growing up in a single parent mother home and being around my friend's mothers. The dad's didn't influence us at all.

After high school, I found out that without even knowing it, my definition of a dad was "That guy married to your friend's mom who doesn't really talk to us (or when he does it's just annoying) and that your mom doesn't really like". Something to that extent. Which when you look at it is pretty bad. 

I am sad about the short time I got to have with my fathers. I do wish I could have spent some of that time better. I can say that I am very fortunate to have had them at all. Three of them. I guess, in a way, her post made me realize, instead of having no father's in my life at all, throughout this first quarter of my life, I have had three. This lifts and saddens my heart at the same time. Regardless, I believe the joy will eventually outweight the sorrow if I look at it the right way. 

I had three Father's in my life who loved me very much. Still something surprising and crazy to wrap my head around. I suppose though, when it comes to love, that's all that really matters. Here's my letter...

Dear Father's of Mine Who Have Passed,

Grandfather, thank you for playing games with me in your big old leather chair. I remember the cool feel of the brown and the smooth cracks with fluff I'd stick my fingers in. I will never forget you reaching over to the side pulling a lever, saying I broke the chair as we reclined and me laughing wildly as I shout "I saw you!"

Step Father Larry, thank you for loving my mother and letting her love you. You were the first man in my adult life to like me as a daughter. Growing up around mothers (and fathers that did nothing) I didn't understand it. I do still love you and I'm happy you loved me and my sister too.

Dad, I know we didn't know what do to with each other the first and only time we met. We didn't understand how one so old and one so young could meet on common ground. Thank you for telling my oldest brother, who you were very close to, how much you loved me. It means a lot.

Namaste my Friends,

~WY