Who can I call for advice these days now that you’re no longer around to pick up the phone?
Your level-headedness balanced the uptight and anxious side of me.
That’s why I can’t always just call Mom for anything, you know. She gets messy with her emotions.
You could be steadfast. You could bare the weight. You could talk some sense.
Even the years and times that I wrote you off.
You kept calling. You kept talking. You kept advising. Something I used to call preaching. Now I know better, knowing you were merely sharing your learned experiences.
Catch myself doing that these days.
What I’d give for another one of those lectures from you these days.
I’d give everything I’ve got to hear the calmness in your voice again.
Your death took more than you. It killed a large part of the positive, hopeful side of me. It robbed me of motivation and squandered my happiness by severing a large part of my support system.
Now trying to regain.
All in the sake of your legacy. All in your name. All to keep you proud in the after-world, whatever that may mean.
Best gift I can give you for this birthday is to be the best me and follow all my dreams, just like you’ve always wanted for me.
Love you, Pops.
Miss you more every day, Dad.
Happy would be 56th, Kris.