Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It's hard to believe you've been gone for seventeen years.  We tried finding you last month at Ft. Rosecrans on our way through San Diego but they moved you and it got dark too soon.  I'm writing to you today because you've been on my mind quite a bit lately and I wanted to share what's going on.  The last time I wrote you a letter it was Holy Saturday, 2002.  You were living in Mexico.  I wrote to share the sad news about Anne's father-in-law who died from a massive heart attack the night before Easter.  We were on our way to Phoenix for the funeral service when you responded to my letter and you told me you wanted to come home.  That little spot you told me you had on your lung turned out to be a much bigger problem than we expected when you came back into our lives and it hurt really bad when you left this world after only 35 days with us.

If you were still alive today I would be sharing my feelings face-to-face but since you're gone, this letter will have to do.  By the way, I'm sharing this with friends and family because you're the only family member I'm allowed to write about without getting into serious conflict.  The main reason I'm writing is to say I'm sorry for my lack of understanding about your writing.  I honestly believed you were wasting your time, especially when you kept getting all those rejection letters from publishers.  Something changed when you left.  After you were gone, I went to a 3-day Marriage Encounter to get my marriage back on track.  There was this void in my heart I wanted to fix.  They didn't tell me I would be writing love letters for three days about feelings.  I got so sick from the experience that I needed to get out and go home.  I puked in the parking lot.  The leader came out to see what was up.  He told me a secret about the end of the retreat and persuaded me to stay.

Tomorrow is your big day in Heaven, dad.  I look forward to the day when we meet again.  Until that time, I want you to know I'm going to keep going.  Yesterday when I was in church for Good Friday, I felt that same void I felt when you left this earth.  The altar was completely stripped.  The congregation was somber.  I thought about how lonely Jesus was when he dragged that Cross all the way up to that spot where he was crucified.  He did that for all of us so we could be forgiven of our sins.  Please forgive me, dad, for all the times when I was angry because you were so far away.  I'm over it now.  Jesus is helping me to fill the void.  It took seventeen years but I think I'm finally cured of my writer's block and I'm ready to complete my most important writing assignment ever without any fear of the naysayers.  Thank you dad, and thank you, Jesus, for teaching me rejection is part of the process.  I love you.

Michael