**disclaimer** – This is a letter that I wrote to express what I have been feeling. I do not believe that you can communicate with the dead, or anything of that nature. So please don’t read to much theology into this letter. Thanks!

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Tuesday, October 6th – 1:06 AM

Dear Dad,

The truth is I should have wrote this letter years ago. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I guess I thought I’d have more time. I told myself that I’d do it “someday” – but I don’t think I ever knew when that day would be. In few hours I’m going to get in my car and drive to your funeral. Wow, that’s weird. I know it’s been a long time since we’ve spoke, and allot’s changed in my life. You won’t believe what happened the last ten years. I grew up – allot. So many things have happened in my life, I’m not even sure where to start.

First, I graduated college – I can’t believe it either. Second, I got into graduate school – finishing that will be another story. Third, I’m married now, for almost two years now. I have the most amazing wife, she is beyond words. I wish you could have met her. She is one of the most loving people I have ever met. We live in Dallas now, she is a pediatrician (and a really good one) – and I am a minister. Yah, that’s right, a minister. Can you believe that? I work at a church, go to seminary (graduate school), and get to speak to students about who God created them to be. I can’t believe it either. I would have never thought God would want to use a guy like me, but He did – wild stuff. I’m beyond humbled that I get to do what I do, and that I have the life I have. Its beyond humbling to me. It’s hard to tell you everything that has happened in the last ten years, but those are some of the highlights.

Dad, I have to say when I heard you passed away this weekend I wasn’t really sure if I was going to go to your funeral. I mean when you and mom divorced it seems like you sort of forget about us. I never got a birthday card, a phone call, an email – nothing. Same goes for your other kids. (my brothers). I’m not sure you have any idea what it is like being the oldest of four brothers, and trying to find a way to explain why their dad just seemingly forget about them. How could you do that to your kids? You are the only father we had. Who do you think I called when I graduated college? Or had questions about life? Or when I was getting married? I had no one to call! I always hear my wife getting to talk to her dad about important life events (tests, interviews, etc) and I always wish I had someone who called me, and asked me how my test, or interview went. I wish you called me and asked how my seminary is going. (it’s hard by the way). I can’t understand how you could do that to us. Did you ever wonder where I was? Did you wonder if I had gotten married, or what I went on to do in life? Did you care? Perhaps you did, but you just didn’t know what to say. I can understand.

I have racked my brain the last few nights trying to think about our last conversation, but I have had no luck. I’m not sure what the last words I ever heard you say were, or when the last time you ever said “I love you, son” to me. Those are the things that are the hardest for me. I know I wasn’t the best kid either – in fact I was pretty bad. There are so many things I want to tell you I am sorry about. I’m also very sorry for never trying to contact you, to be honest I didn’t even know where you were. Dad, I wish I could go back years ago, as a teenager, before the divorce, and do something about the drinking. I’ve seen first hand the effects of alcohol on a marriage, on a family, and on a life. I know you were hooked. I’ve seen you cry before because of it. I’ve seen mom cry before because you couldn’t stop. I remember you trying to go to rehab as a little kid, and to AA, but that didn’t work for you. That alcohol was bad news for you. You used to say some pretty mean stuff when you drinking that stuff. That’s my last memories of you. That makes me sad. I wish there was something I could have done to show you what the stuff was going to do to you, and to your family years down the road. I know you never thought it was going to do all of this.

Dad, one of my biggest regrets is that I never shared with you what has changed my life. The Gospel message. I was trying to think back to a time when you went to church with us, but I can’t. That makes me sad. Why didn’t you ever come to church with us on Sunday’s? Why did you just make mom sit there at church with all four of us boys, while you stayed at home and drank? How do you think that made mom feel? I have no idea where you stand before God. I have no idea if anyone ever shared the Gospel with you. If you ever responded. Dad, I know life was hard for you, but despite it all – you were created by God. He loves you, and He really wanted to make something of your life. It didn’t matter that you were 57 years old, God still wanted to redeem your life. To give you freedom from the alcohol – He could have! Dad, I know I was mad at you, but I don’t want you to go to hell. I want you to have a relationship with God. I don’t think I can ever remember you smiling or laughing when you weren’t drunk – you had no joy. God could have given you a deep down joy. He really could have. Dad, I hope in the depths of my heart that you had a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Dad, I forgive you for the years of hurt and pain. I just want to know you.

I don’t have all bad memories. I do have some good memories of you – in-between the times you were drunk. I remember the Christmas you bought us that basketball game, that was fun. And when you bought us the nintendo, and we played duck-hunt, and Mario – that was a big surprise. I also remember going to Big Bend as a kid, and to thousand trails – that was fun. Not to mention all the six-flags trips. I remember working with you at your hot dog stand, and making so-cones also – that was fun also. Every memory of you isn’t bad – in fact I try to only hold on to the good ones. That’s how I want to remember you.

Dad, thanks for providing for us as kids. For the school clothes, and the home, and the times you would bring home candy from the story. I miss you, and I love you. I am sorry things turned out the way the did. I forgive you, and humbly ask that you’ll forgive me. I know your life wasn’t easy, I really do. I know your heart harbored pain so deep that I will never know. I’m sorry that I added to some of that pain. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I never thought the next time I saw you, it would be at your funeral. You really never know, do you? Dad, I love you. I really do. And so does God, He wants to fill that pain in your heart with joy. Dad, I hope we’ll get to see each other again one day. I really do.

Now I’m going to sleep, and I’ll wake up in a few hours and drive to your funeral. What an eerie feeling. Goodbye dad. I wish we could have hugged one last time.
I love you.

Your Son,
Rick