Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#290 In which our hero writes his annual letter to his father, 2010 edition.

Dear Dad,

Yesterday was Father’s Day. It really snuck up on me this year. Macey brought home a foam door hanger covered in ink stamps and glitter glue (still wet) early in the week, then I forgot about it.

The actual day was pretty low-key. The Scientist had to work, so I played with the girls and surfed the Internet all morning. We went to the store, had McDonalds for lunch, played outside… just a fairly relaxed day.

Saturday morning I realized that I needed to post my annual letter to you. It got me down a bit that that was my attitude… that I “needed” to post, not that I wanted to.

I’m actually at a bit of a loss as to what to write. It feels like I’ve covered a lot in the past… your sense of humor, the horrible injustice that you died before meeting my wife and kids, and so on.

More than any other single person, you’ve had the biggest influence on the man I am today. So why do I feel my connection to you fading? The obvious answer, of course, is that you died 17 years ago. Couple of years after you died I stopped having bad dreams about you. Couple of years after that I stopped thinking about you every day. I know think about calling Mom, never Mom and Dad.

It makes me sad, makes me feel like a bad son.

But, I don’t imagine that railing against God for taking you or obsessively pondering what you would do in a given situation every day would be any better. Saying, “I miss my dad” feels like a disconnected thing, like I’m talking about a friend I had in grade school, someone I lost touch with a long, long time ago.

But, it’s not like I only have bad or weird feelings about you. The very fact that I’m here, living my life, is keeping your legacy alive. Mom sometimes calls me “Ted,” which tells me that even after all these years, even with the cold connection I sometimes feel with you, that I’m probably more like you that I consciously realize.

And that somehow makes it better.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Your son,