Dear Dad

The posts from June 5 - 18 are primarily about my birth father. This post is the last one in this series, for now.

Dear Dad,

If you were alive today, you would be 76 years old. It has been 46 years since we last visited, and I have missed you. I have often wondered what it would have been like to have had the same father from birth, and what if you were that father. We have many physical similarities. The first thing that Grandma said to me when I visited her during my college years was, "You look just like your father." At the time, that was a very odd thing to hear. Aunt Alice also remarked about how much I looked like you, but she also saw Beverly in me. I am not sure that Grandma wanted to see any of Beverly in me.

I know that I have many of your features, however, I wish I had your height! So do my boys, Matthew and Michael. Melissa has the tall gene, she is 5'9". You would really love your grandchildren.

Besides physical similarities, we share many emotions. Sensitivity, guilt, and trying to be optimistic in spite of pain. I also know what it is like to be depressed and have fleeting thoughts of turning a vehicle into a sign post. I had those thoughts before I really knew exactly how you died. It must have been imprinted on my heart. The desire to live, and the realization of how much pain one death can cause, have kept me on the road, all these years.

I have a few memories of our time together. I remember planting the trees in our front yard, going to the air show, wearing my Davey Crockett hat, and of course, how you took care of me after I cut my knee on Terry's toy sewing machine. I also remember when you left. I didn't understand what dying meant, but I knew you weren't coming back. I don't remember much about your funeral, but I do remember coming home to a house full of food. There was one night when I thought you were in my room talking to me. I remember looking up at the ceiling trying to find you. It must have been a dream.

After you died, things went from bad to worse. Beverly wasn't able to keep us. She started telling people that she had killed you. I think she wanted you to replace her own father. If you would had only known how much pain your death caused, I think your will to live would have been stronger. After living in and out of foster care, Beverly gave us to Aunt Betty, along with our new sister. I guess our little sister was a result of Beverly continuing to look for a man who could be her father. Betty died two years later as a result of her alcoholism, and then we moved in with the Barnetts. They eventually became our "forever" family.

Your death changed my life. One thing I did was marry a strong woman. Phyllis is very different than Beverly. She has always been there for me. She is an only child and came from a very strong family. We have been married for over 23 years, and each year I have grown to love her more. She is also an incredible mother and a gifted third grade teacher.

The most powerful influence your life and death had on me was, that from an early age, my desire was to become the father I never had. My adoptive father taught me many things, however, being a good father was not one of them. His own father was very cruel, and he was not able to "break the cycle."

By the grace of God, I have been a good father. Maybe marrying the right woman has had more to do with being a good father than anything else. I can't say it enough, Phyllis is a great mother. Matthew is studying to be a youth minister, Melissa is starting college this fall and she is going to study psychology or social work and become a "people helper." Michael will be a sophomore in high school. He has those same muscles I had when I was young. He is definitely like "a little bull." He hopes to become a champion wrestler. He is also a tenacious football player. I call him "bone crusher." He may eventually become a fireman. All of them have a strong faith in God.

If you had just hung in there, I think you would have had a good life. I know the road ahead was going to be rough, but I believe that our situation would have gotten better. It might sound strange, but I forgive you for dying. I understand how complicated life can get, especially when there seems to be no hope. My hope has been in my eternal Father God. I know that he has a plan and purpose for my life, and he will see me through my darkest days.

Thank you for writing those letters. I am blessed to have them. Happy Father's Day!

I love you,

David Michael