Dear Dad,
It's been 5 years now. I don't know how this works, but I am hoping you're busy up there and God pulls you away for a second to read this letter.
I really just wanted to honor you today. To make sure that you knew you weren't forgotten.
I love you and I miss you immensely. I try and remember the way you smell, the way you smiled and laughed, the jokes you cracked with mom watching the news. I remember Sunday's going to buy the newspaper with you and how you always bought me fudge chocolate. I remember watching the small hand reach "5" and going to sit out on the curb waiting for you to get home from work and you would swing me high in your arms. I remember being forced to go upcountry with you but always being so happy to see you fit in and love being in your childhood home. I remember you waving to people on the sides of the road and feeling like a celebrity because everybody in Nyeri, it seemed to me, knew you.
I remember you working out back every weekend, building and creating. I remember all the photographs you took. I remember never needing a repair man or a painter or an electrician in our house because you did it all and you did it well. I remember putting up Christmas decorations and birthday decorations and the birthday parties you always insisted I have. I remember you tapping on the window when you were barbequing to say, "wee, kuja". In other words, "come get the grub." I used to get so annoyed because you were interrupting my TV watching every 5 minutes, but I would give up every DVD I own for a chance to hear that annoying tap on the window and seeing you tasting some nyam chom. Here's one thing I failed to appreciate, you carried celebration. I don't think I've celebrated much since you left.
I remember you insisting that mom get me chocolate for our last valentine's together. I remember your sadness that you couldn't buy me better looking earrings than the ones I last showed you (PS, I was offended that you didn't appreciate my taste!) You showed me a new side of you, the dad you always wanted to be and I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to live in that reality longer than we did.
I carry no regrets. I carry no hurts. I carry no daddy issues. God has done a good job fully taking over as Dad where you left off. He's been sorting me out. For a while there, I blamed Him for letting you leave us, I felt like He had let me down. Now I realize that God has never let me down. He can't let me down...ever. What happened, broke my heart. It is what it is, what it isn't is "from God to make me strong".
Everybody says that you would be proud of me, but the thing is, I just don't know that. The one thing I wish I had, was you to tell me those words. It seems the older I get the more I need someone to tell me "well done" or that I'm doing a good job. Those are words you just need a dad to tell you. Again, God has sorted me out in a way. I am surrounded by a band of fathers and mothers here at Bethel who say those words to me. I guess it's time I started believing them. Maybe in believing them, I honor you.
However this works, this is to let you know, I value who you are to me. You are my dad, without you I wouldn't be here. I am proud to be your daughter. You were an amazing man. History will remember you fondly.
Love,
Your Daughter.
It's been 5 years now. I don't know how this works, but I am hoping you're busy up there and God pulls you away for a second to read this letter.
I really just wanted to honor you today. To make sure that you knew you weren't forgotten.
I love you and I miss you immensely. I try and remember the way you smell, the way you smiled and laughed, the jokes you cracked with mom watching the news. I remember Sunday's going to buy the newspaper with you and how you always bought me fudge chocolate. I remember watching the small hand reach "5" and going to sit out on the curb waiting for you to get home from work and you would swing me high in your arms. I remember being forced to go upcountry with you but always being so happy to see you fit in and love being in your childhood home. I remember you waving to people on the sides of the road and feeling like a celebrity because everybody in Nyeri, it seemed to me, knew you.
I remember you working out back every weekend, building and creating. I remember all the photographs you took. I remember never needing a repair man or a painter or an electrician in our house because you did it all and you did it well. I remember putting up Christmas decorations and birthday decorations and the birthday parties you always insisted I have. I remember you tapping on the window when you were barbequing to say, "wee, kuja". In other words, "come get the grub." I used to get so annoyed because you were interrupting my TV watching every 5 minutes, but I would give up every DVD I own for a chance to hear that annoying tap on the window and seeing you tasting some nyam chom. Here's one thing I failed to appreciate, you carried celebration. I don't think I've celebrated much since you left.
I remember you insisting that mom get me chocolate for our last valentine's together. I remember your sadness that you couldn't buy me better looking earrings than the ones I last showed you (PS, I was offended that you didn't appreciate my taste!) You showed me a new side of you, the dad you always wanted to be and I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to live in that reality longer than we did.
I carry no regrets. I carry no hurts. I carry no daddy issues. God has done a good job fully taking over as Dad where you left off. He's been sorting me out. For a while there, I blamed Him for letting you leave us, I felt like He had let me down. Now I realize that God has never let me down. He can't let me down...ever. What happened, broke my heart. It is what it is, what it isn't is "from God to make me strong".
Everybody says that you would be proud of me, but the thing is, I just don't know that. The one thing I wish I had, was you to tell me those words. It seems the older I get the more I need someone to tell me "well done" or that I'm doing a good job. Those are words you just need a dad to tell you. Again, God has sorted me out in a way. I am surrounded by a band of fathers and mothers here at Bethel who say those words to me. I guess it's time I started believing them. Maybe in believing them, I honor you.
However this works, this is to let you know, I value who you are to me. You are my dad, without you I wouldn't be here. I am proud to be your daughter. You were an amazing man. History will remember you fondly.
Love,
Your Daughter.
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