An Open Letter to My Father
Dear Dad,
It’s coming up on March 19th already – it was a fast year.
The day you, in your own way, your own time and your place left me.
As usual you did what you had to do and do it your way.
We both knew that in your life and in my life we had differences. The biggest difference we had was who I am and what I am. The who was not hard for you because you created me, it was the WHAT. I’m not sure if you were struggling with guilt or shame, but you didn’t have to carry that all your life. God gave you the seed to give me life, therefore I was created in His image and your likeness. I know in my heart you struggled with me being gay. You never said a word, you didn’t have to, and I saw it in your face each time you had to look at me. I felt it the times I wanted you to hold me and say I love you. It felt to me at that time as neglect and pure and simple rejection by you for your own reason.
I know you were never able to say I LOVE YOU, BUT Dad that was okay, because for years I had hoped it was in your heart, but you didn’t know how to put it in words.
I was very surprised one evening, when you just out of the blue rang my door bell and stood there on my porch with that wonderful look on your face, as if to say I am here for you now. That was difficult for you, because at your age you sacrificed driving hundreds of miles by yourself to come see me. As I looked in your face and your eyes I felt ease and peace of mind. I will never forget how you told me the story of you driving so slowing on the highway and a State Trooper pulled you over, you told him you were not sure of directions but you were trying to get to my address. The Trooper had you follow him to my address. Now Dad that was unspoken love for doing what you did. You sacrificed your life, your time and your inability to safely drive to come and visit. In our Fifty years of silence with each other I could not have asked for anymore than what you did that evening.
The day we arrived at the hospital and I stood by your bedside and I held your hand, I said to you Hi Dad its Cliff, I’m here for you. You took my hand and tried to do a hand shake, then took two of my fingers and squeezed them hard, very hard, that was the first time I ever cried in front of you. That was the second time in your life; you told me that you loved me. There were two things in life I learned from you 1) never tell you, that you couldn’t do anything; 2) to always let you work things out your way and in your time. I know while you were in hospice that you knew I spent a couple nights with you. There was just you and me once again in silence, BUT we were together for whatever reason. Do you remember on March 19th as sis and I was leaving to go get some dinner, I came over gave you a kiss and told you it was time to let go and I would see you again one day with Mom. We were not gone 30 minutes and we got the call from the hospital, you had decided it was time to leave and you did, for the last time on this earth and on your terms. You got the last word in as you usually would always do. That’s okay because we both absorbed, felt, gathered and accepted each others understanding of love in a very short 7 days, that which we couldn’t find in almost 50 years, we found in 7 days. I will with you, as I have done with Mom for over 30 years think of you often, I will tell you I miss you and I will certainly tell you I Love You.
Love
Cliff
