Truth be told, dad didn’t have favorites.
(I still had to have the mug . Reminds me of John who kept referring to himself as, “the disciple whom Jesus loved!”)
Even being the first born and the most like him, I always felt last… forgotten… least of these. I only realized at the very end that the reason he didn’t worry about me as much was BECAUSE I was most like him. A passionate, faithful, feisty, determined, generous, fearless, independent, quirky, unashamed, compassionate, silly, adventurous, charismatic, spontaneous, socialite, friend-collector, proud, daydreaming, over-thinking, over-achieving perfectionist.
Woah. That’s a mouthful.
The irony of it all is that for most of my life, I have felt so misunderstood, less-than, and just shy of enough. Starting in grade school all the way to high school. Oh but I still “put on a happy face” and showed the world my fearless side. “Fake it till you make it,” they say. “When will I make it?” I thought.
Pop, now, more than ever, I’m starting to love who I am. Maybe because who I am is all I have left of you. From this moment, I am determined to continue looking for you. Running towards, not away from, what makes me different; what makes me unique. I’m not sure where you will lead me, but I know it will be great.
I miss you, pop.
Dear Miss Mary 