It has now been two years since you have been gone and I gotta tell you, it seems like this happened yesterday and some days I find it really hard to bear.  I believe you know this but Mom has really rallied since you had to go.  Tough as nails, stubborn and sometimes downright frustrating to say the least but she is handling her life now.  I know she misses me, or at least the family connection that I am, and I sometimes wish I was closer but mostly am glad to have the buffer zone.  My guilt over that is my own, despite what any neighborhood children might believe.  I am living my life as best I can and I believe if I did go back she would probably be upset.  People are always around her for the most part, but the older I get the more I believe that perhaps she appreciates the lonely part of her life now.  We have our rows but we always seem to come out the other side still talking, you know I could never turn my back no matter how angry or terrible she can be.

 You were good to her, and I am lucky enough to have found someone who is good to me finally.  He is like you in a lot of ways.  And different from you too.  He is salt of the earth like you were, helpful when asked and always willing to do an errand for me if I need it.  He loves me and I imagine you had great love for Mom after all that time.  I am learning that time changes a marriage and what it was to begin with changes as time passes.  We love each other, we call each other out on our stuff and we are honest with each other about how we feel, even if it hurts.  I think I learned the honesty thing from you guys, I remember a row or two between you and yet you stayed together for the 57 years you had.

You and I had our challenges too didn’t we?  Like the year you went through your Prostate cancer battle and I battled the failure of a marriage to a man who victimized me.  Something you didn’t know until much later.  Mom thought it was best you didn’t know how violent my ex was with me so I didn’t tell you then and I guess you were angry that I didn’t come over to visit because the disease kept me away.  I just hope you understand now that I couldn’t be the daughter that failed you while you were fighting for your life.  Plus there was this whole weird thing where I had to call if I wanted to come over like some sort of out of town guest you had to fit in.  There were a whole lot of things I needed at that point in my life that I had to provide for myself and I wasn’t about to ask permission to visit my family.  So I stayed away, for better or worse, I tucked myself away at some low level night job slinging donuts and coffee and sleeping the days away.  To be honest it never crossed my mind that I should see you then, you had Marc and Mom and you guys always seemed like a family to me on your own, like I was a stranger there so I figured (if I thought about it at all) that perhaps you had what you needed.  Is that what you thought about me during that time?  Or were you just bitter that your only daughter didn’t bother to come see you?  Questions I will carry for a long time.

We had travelled from home to see where Derek would be working, that summer, while you were still here.  And after a 12 to 14hr drive back home after seeing the place two provinces away we came home and crashed.  I always asked for the phone to be beside me, every night like clockwork.  But for some reason that night I left it in Derek’s home office and didn’t give it a second thought.  In the morning Derek handed me the phone and said “Your Mom called” as he could tell by checking the caller ID.  There was voicemail but I figured it was a butt dial on her part or something else.  Something small and insignificant.  So I called her back, a bit overtired still and giggly and then she told me that you had a heart attack and had died.  I said the words to Derek standing beside the bed where I was sitting and he looked at me the way I felt.  Like I had been hit by something heavy and was stunned trying to find my way back to reality.  I don’t think I started crying but I was a mess inside.  My first thought was, I guess he got an offer from Uncle Dave, his best friend for his whole life and whom had passed a few years back.  Maybe Dave was waiting on a lush golf green for you to come tee up.  Then maybe Marc was there too and the fourth player was someone I didn’t know and you were going to do a solid 18 with at least two of your best friends.  That thought comforted me and helped me find peace in the initial shock of it all.  Our friend Rita spotted us the cash to get there and we flew out to be with Mom.  Tried to help her through the trauma, trying not to cause too much.  Another row with her and dramatics from me but we managed to get through it.  It was super-hot the day of your funeral service.  I remember I felt bad for the attendants in their wool coats opening and closing the door to the people who were coming to pay their respects.  I remember seeing you, even if only in my mind’s eye, sitting in this chair that no one sat in the whole time we were there.  The way you adjusted your socks and watched the door smiling from ear to ear as people came in.  You seemed surprised by a few of the people showing up and rolled your eyes at others acts of drama.  You watched Mom sitting alone next to the box of your ashes greeting this one and that, most from where you worked for your life that she had not met.  Some family and lots of friends.  A few girls that would obviously miss your flirting, something you passed on to me.  I have to tell you, since you have been gone I have discovered so much that we share in common.  It has been a wild ride to see it all and some of the stuff you passed on you could have back, but in a way it draws me closer to you.  I never felt like I belonged in the family I was raised in, so to see all these things now, be it ailments or whatever, at least it is some type of confirmation that I came from somewhere and there is comfort in that.

I guess the bottom line of this little write up is that I miss you.  Perhaps more than I thought I would, or maybe I just wasn’t prepared for you to go so soon.  I have been angry at you for leaving me to deal with Mom but I can see you in my mind giving me that look.  The look that says as you often would  “Bull Feathers”.  You took care of her for your whole married life and now it is my turn I guess.  I imagine I can keep up with her until one of us gives out.  I still talk to you, I still think of you and I still hold you up to other fathers I have known and meet.  You were a very interesting guy and at the service a weird and inappropriate neighbor asked me to write out your life story for him.  Guess it was that interesting and I am sorry that I didn’t know it all.  I know you lived on a farm when you were young.  That you started smoking as a little kid.  That you spoke French fluently but no one knew that until you spoke it.  You were adopted and didn’t know your birth parents.  You had a brother who was also adopted that you rarely spoke of.  You were our coach while we were growing up in bowling and in baseball.  You were a great storyteller.  You could talk to anyone.  You played the violin and banjo.  You would drop everything you were doing to help a neighbor or friend in need.  You were a fixer.  You loved lima beans.  You could be terrible with money.  You were never a fan of Americans.  You drank Labatt 50 and Heineken beer once in a while.  You owned dogs for most of your life.  You were a pretty fair golfer.  You had a son who died before you.  You were a big contributing part of Expo 67.  You had a wife and a couple of kids and you were still kicking it pretty hard when your heart attacked you.  You had friends and family that loved you more than words.  You were and are loved.  You were and are missed.

Till we meet again,

your daughter, Linda