Father’s Day yesterday reminded me of a letter I wrote to my Dad well over a year ago. I wrote it, but I know I can never send it…
You’re nearly 81, who knows how long you have left? Only God I suppose. Mam’s been gone nearly 6 years and you still miss her don’t you. Every single day. You talk about your prayers and not being able to get to Mass and it makes you sad.
Sometimes I get a glimpse of grace in your life. When you wept for a prisoner who will never see the light of day again or a family whose home has been destroyed by floods. But then you go back to your little world of memories and your silly lotto tickets!
I remember the day you were knocked down. I was told that you broke your leg and I had to stay with Aunty May for a while. I didn’t like that. I was 13, not a baby but I wanted to go home. Did I know it was worse than they had told me? How could I have?
Your brain damage has taken your sense of responsibility, your ability to reason, your hygiene. But not your love alcohol sadly. But nor has it taken your love for your children and your grandchildren. You love Christmas and enjoy buying and wrapping more than getting. You passed lots of that stuff on to us all and we’re grateful for that.
I wish I could get your attention long enough to tell you all this. And to tell you that I have another Father. He is older than you but ageless. He has His wits about Him at all times. And listens to me in a way that you haven’t been able to for years. He is your Father too. Well you’ve said He is, when I heard you saying the Lord’s Prayer. I hope you totally understand what you are praying.
If I could get you to listen to me I’d love to tell you how He loves you and cares for you and wants you to be with Him when your body finally gives up on you. But I can’t get through. So I pray the Holy Spirit speaks to your spirit and that you know His love and will be with Him eternally.
I love you Da, thank you for everything.
Your baby, Annmarie x