Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Another year another day. Not much changed. Same old job, same old song and dance, and I get by on a wing a prayer. Not to say things are all bad or that no good has come this year. I haven’t been very productive lately. I fee worn out. I know I know these things happen, I do the best I can. That should be enough. I’m supposed to start yoga tomorrow. Maybe that will help.

I thought of you the other day, these thoughts seem to grow more distant, more personal, sweeter or sometimes funnier when they happen. My world is a little colder without your unconditional love. I warm myself on these memories.

Someone mentioned their father would pick them up at the airport, and would probably park and come in. And I thought you’d do that. You’d come and pick me up from the airport. You’d park and maybe buy a coffee or something. You’d do it because you were relaxed and laid back and would think why not enjoy a trip to the airport. And you’d do it because you loved me. I miss that. Although mom has become sentimental and now parks to pick people up from the airport.

I miss you, and wonder what you would think of all the political hoopla. Who would win your vote, are you a Hilary fan or Obama? What would you think of global warming, Al Gore and the state of the union? Would you be as liberal as I hope? Perhaps not. But we would talk about all of it.

And Chardy. You’d be so proud of him. Chardy, embodies so much of your spirit, of the Shea spirit, of our spirit. I live vicariously through their family. He loves his kid as you did. He’s a big marshmallow for them. Caryn is so wonderful, so fierce and loving, and smart and competitive.

I’ve discovered a new love. Del Toro. Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone hit me in the way that only a good catholic director could. I wonder if you’d like them. So beautiful and violent, terrifying, poignant, and rare, would you like them? Would they go too far you? I don’t know. I think you’d enjoy them. Especially Pan’s Labyrinth

Brian is Brian, we communicate through a series of notes about movies and Sox conversations. It’s a subtle form of communication but it will suffice until we find more common ground. It bridges the love that is there.

You’d be so proud of Beth. Back to school she goes, fighting the workforce. It’s hard for us. But we do our best. She is so incredibly compassionate, and so strikingly intelligent. We spend hours complimenting each other on our common sense and the disbelief that the people around us aren’t more alarmed by the goings on of the world. History has become our greatest ally, much to my own chagrin. I can see you smile at that.

Mom has retired and is as busy as ever. I think she misses you more now. This was supposed to be your time together. You’d be down the Cape by now reading on the beach. Maybe the two of you would travel, see the world. Italy perhaps? France? I can see it in my mind. Mom’s a little upset that I’ll be taking the road trip with Beth this summer. But I needed it more than she did. And Beth is and forever will be my best friend. Mom will get her chance too.

So my dear father, I leave things much the same. A spark of hope, a twinkle of luck and a heavy dash of cynicism. I love you. I miss you. And I try to appreciate this big shiny world on your behalf. I’m sure life is wasted on the living and I’ll try to sit back and enjoy the view now and again.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Your loving daughter,

Kate