Dear Dad, I hope you're right about that whole heaven thing— Hope you're hearing angels sing. I might not believe, but I hope, And the fact that hope was enough for you, even as a preacher—man, that was dope. I won't pretend it’s easy not talking to you. It’s not. There’s so much I still wish I could say, And the fact that I never can—not in this life, at least— Brings up emotions I wasn’t prepared for in the least. I appreciate how you always tried to see me— I mean really see me. Not just the surface, but the space to be free, to be me. I know sometimes the way you showed you cared Could’ve been handled a little more prepared— But still, it was there. I think about the joy and the play that we shared, The way you made fun of your own hair. I wish you saw what I did, Wish you knew what lived in my heart when I was a kid. Wish I had said more, done more from the start. Wish I made you more proud— Wish you could’ve heard these things out loud. I wish you’d had the chance to see what I’d become. Instead, everything’s finally done. And yeah… Your pride and your fears used to make me mad. The way you’d sometimes sabotage what you could’ve had. Especially with her— The relationship you should’ve had with your granddaughter. The chance to play, to laugh, to swim together in the water. You missed so much some you may have earned. And some of it? Yeah—fate. Just the way the world turned. But some of it was you—too proud, too late. And now I sit here with this ache. Too late for me to fight harder for what I believed. Too late to share the love I think you might’ve needed. Too late for aimless talks, Too late for revelations in long backyard walks. Still, I’m thankful for the life we had. Please forgive my sadness for how some things went bad. I love you, Dad. And I’ll always hope. Even if I don’t know where you are— Even if there’s no envelope To send this to the stars.
