Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s hard to believe how quickly time passes. In 12 days, Dad, you will be gone three years. Did you listen to that nurse make the call to me? How I made sure everyone in the family was called to get there? Did you watch my speedometer as I pushed past 80 mph on Route 45? And you were already gone. I should have stayed with you that night.
And did you gather with Ashley, Beth, Christie and me as we sat in Beth’s living room drinking French vanilla cappuccino so none of us would be alone? And Leslie had taken off on foot to walk across Salem to her apartment. Richard and Dawn made sure she got there. And I wished she was with us at Beth’s house.
I was looking for a place to watch the sunrise with you that morning. The fairgrounds was not the highest point to watch the sun crack the horizon open. But I looked at the hillside. At the top, in the distance, was a row of trees. From one of the branches a single bird took wing. It traveled alone. I watched until it disappeared from sight, and I knew you were gone.
Ah, Dad. There were so many things I still wanted to talk about with you. I guess those things will have to wait…or maybe they don’t really matter all that much. There are only two things important: You loved me and I loved you…because you were Dad.
Mom, you’ve been gone 6-1/2 months. There are still moments when I think, “I should go see Mom today.” Or, “Mom would get a kick out of that.” Oh, how could it have slipped my mind that you were ready to move on to your next adventure.
Adventure. Do you remember telling me you woke up every morning and before you did anything else you talked to God and asked, “Lord, what wonderful adventure are we going to have today?”
It was my privilege and honor to be your daughter. I hope I have never ever caused either of you a moment’s humiliation, embarrassment or shame. Your respect for me was one of the most valuable gifts I ever earned.
Love,
Cathy
(c) 2012 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved
