Dear Dad

HI Folks,
Well...tomorrow is the day. My Dad has been gone 31 years. It makes the week of Christmas especially hard for my brother and me while everyone around us is partying it up...our minds are elsewhere.
So I thought I'd write a letter to my Dad, even though I can't really send it. I believe in mediums and psychics, though I certainly don't live my life or make my decisions based upon their words. I do because I remember my Dad always telling us to look for signs, because, if he ever died we'd find them and it would be him trying to contact us. I've had too many signs and close calls in the last 31 years NOT to believe it. I respect those who don't, but I certainly believe. So I believe he will see it...just not in the conventional way.

Dear Dad,
I can't even imagine what you, a young father of only 47 years old, must have been thinking on this day, the day before you died, 31 years ago. I've been thinking about it alot. You had your heart attack in July, right between my birthday and yours and were in the hospital, then out, then we drove back to Montana for school to start. You were really sick in the car on the way home-so I drove. All of 16 and driving from MA to MT, with Bob in the passenger seat and you in the back resting. Still, you encouraged me, calmed me when I got scared driving all that way and reminded us to note the H (for hospital) signs along the way in case we needed to get you to one. Thankfully, we didn't.
I can only imagine you, knowing you needed surgery that may or may not save your life...having the tape you made us during that time is precious and I'm still not trusting enough to give it to someone to convert to CD. I'm going to try and get the courage to do that this year so we have it forever. I imagine you wanting us to know many things, because you knew you wouldn't be here to tell us, teach us, love us. Since I'm the same age you were I look at Little K and Little Mista (though they're not my kids, just the closest kids to me that I love) and think that my heart would be breaking, knowing I probably wouldn't see them grow up.
So, as an adult, my heart breaks for you as a person and a parent. As a kid, my heart just breaks, missing you.
Back in 1980 there were no quadruple bypasses (which you needed) or barely any triples...those were really new. Today those are both routine and folks are saved every day from what they learned from patients like you. Uncle Dick was saved because of this technology, I'm just sad it came too late for you.
You spent this day, Dec. 20, 1980 trying to recover from the surgery and live. I'm not sure what do we came to see you there, I can't remember whether it was this date or a day or 2 earlier...I just know my last memory-you were hooked up to tubes, couldn't talk really and saw me and cried.
I knew that was different than the Dad I knew always being strong for us and telling us "I'll be home soon and we'll go Xmas shopping. Your old Dad will be ok."
Then the call came-I remember Mom handed me the phone and it was Uncle Dick on the phone, from the hospital. "Your Dad didn't make it." Life was changed forever.
You taught me to be open, caring, loving. You told me the most important thing in life was to love and you loved Bob and me with everything. We felt it and we will never forget it. You said you wanted us to be healthy, happy and successful. You told us you wished your son would never go to war and he didn't.
Well, I've committed myself to be healthy since you left and Bob has gotten on the bandwagon too. We are happy but we certainly could be more successful (as anyone would say). So we've done what you wished for us and we will keep doing it.
I hope you're proud of us but I think you are. I hope, with all my heart, you can see us and know and see what we do. Whenever I see a dragonfly I know it's you. There was a HUGE one on our garage this summer, huge...and I knew that was one of the signs you taught us about. You also said we'd see birds and, at our house, there's a nest in our little tree, one in our bird house and one in our Japanese maple-we're surrounded each year and again I know it's you.
So my Xmas wish is the same as every other year since 1980-and I know it won't come true but I'm not willing to NOT make that wish.
One more day, that's all I want. A little girl's wish-even though I'm not so little anymore.
Love and miss you, Daddy.