A Letter Instead of a Prayer

I miss my father terribly.

Dear Dad,

It’s been less than a year since you’ve left us. Almost a year, and it still feels like yesterday.

Recently I sought closure in your places, in the localities in which you lingered. And through your friends, loved ones, and by attending to those pursuits that you would have, had you still been here.

I looked on reverently at your environments, on the things you oversaw, on what you did. I cried as I listened to your CDs, knowing that somehow a part of you transferred to verse, then to memory, and then to the air again.

Whether or not you can see me remains a mystery. But if you can, I hope that you’re proud of the person I’ve become, of the man you helped raise, and at the wisdom you instilled in me via our Sunday afternoon phone calls.

I wonder if you understood that when you taught me how to play chess as a child, you taught me how to stay seven steps ahead in life (At the time I was too young to realize the metaphor) I’m not sure you intentionally instilled that lesson in me, but thank you for that rite of passage.

There are times like today, when I need your ear, when I need to hear the affirmation of your voice. But all I have is the ability to write these thoughts down and to hope that you can read them. Please accept them as my prayer to you. Even if you can’t answer, my naivete still hopes that a part of you could see (or feel) them.

And if you can, or even if you can’t, I want you to know that I love you. The sentiment isn’t wasted. A love that cannot be undone cannot be lost.

- Christopher