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Happy Father’s Day, Dad

I pray for you often, though I hope you don’t need it by now. I’d definitely like to think you’d enjoy being here, talking with the adult me. I don’t know how much we are alike, but when I began to idolize Atticus Finch, I imagined that’s how you’d be, if we’d lost Mom instead of you.

There’s nothing permanent about death, so I say I “lost” you. You’re not gone, but you won’t be back here. I’m still here, so to me, you’re “lost”. I have done plenty of reckoning with the sorrow and a certain finality of death, so now is the time to concede nothing more.

I often say I miss you, and I do, but I feel closer to you now than I did while you were here. That’s the power of what is eternal, as I am sure you know. I do my best not to waste the moments of life, though I fail at that most days.

There is something indescribable about living, about being human. I feel sad for those people who don't see the point. Ultimately, Jesus and the Church. I'd have preached at you a bit, had you stayed away while here. I'm just being me, Dad.

Thank you, for everything.
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