Postcards To My Dad: Putting feelings to words before our final goodbye.

When my parents told me the news, that my Dad had cancer and it was only a matter of time not a matter of a cure, I did not know how to react. He had a decision to make about what treatments he would accept to help prolong his life, of which the pain and suffering he would have to endure I did not and still to this day do not understand. The idea that he would potentially not do whatever it took to live as long as he could did not make sense to me. Given a diagnosis of months to live without treatment, he took treatments (of which I do not know the details, I either was too busy living in my own teenage world or my parents tried to shelter me from it, or both) and lived over a year and a half. I was always close with my Dad but in a quiet kind of way. Expressing my feelings and love for him in words was hard especially surrounding the idea of him dying.

I was beginning my senior year of high school when he was diagnosed. Watching his children thrive in life following whatever passions we had no matter how big or small brought a special light to him. Following those passions despite his shrinking timeline was what he encouraged despite how far away it took us. As time went on and that timeline seemed to be drawing closer to the end he asked me to share my feelings with him, something that seemed so much harder than it should have. After his persistent insistence I finally put thoughts to words and shared with him. Seventeen years later I look back at those words and think, though short, the words I finally shared just weeks before his death so perfectly captured how I loved him. To have these words in writing to help remind me of my Dad and the things I so cherished about him has been a priceless gift he gave me.

People always say to tell those you love how you feel because you never know when you will not have that chance again. Sometimes it is easier said than done, though I do not understand why it can feel that way...it just can. I have thought over the years of sharing my Dad's story, of the postcards, but have struggled with the details of what to share, I figure this is a start. As Father's Day is once again upon us, I find holding these postcards and reading them again bring me both happiness and sadness still seventeen years later.

June 11th ’98

Dear Dad,

I want to tell you about a part of you that I’m going to miss most. You have always been one step behind all the other parents who have been standing on the sidelines or in the audience yelling out their support. You have always stood there, watched, and smiled. Maybe you would have a few words for afterwards, but it has been your simple presence, no words needed that has mattered most to me. I always wanted to do better than my best once I saw you there in support.

When you came up on parents’ weekend during soccer season although you were not able to stay that game was the best I have played possibly in my life + that game was for you because even though you left just an hour before, to me you were at that game. I set up 3 goals and gained a starting position + respect. It was the happiest + hardest game I have ever played.

Thanks for giving me that feeling.

Love Ann

June 12th ’98

Dear Dad,

It is really hard realizing what is coming. After a year away from home and always coming home to you being there it is hard for me to accept that, that would ever change. I know that you keep telling me that you want me to finish my time here and you’ll try to make it ‘till I get home. But I want to be able to see you, give you a hug + tell you how much I love you before it is too late. I know it is never really too late or at least that is what people always say but for me those moments are something I could use. So tell me to come home when you need to. No matter how much Superman tries to do it all even he has Kryptonite against him, just like your cancer is against you.

You’ve done your best Superman.

Love Ann