![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jun. 30th, 2019 08:54 pm Dear Dad,
I didn't write my usual June 23rd post, the way I do every year. But this year was different. I was in Wisconsin, visiting your brothers and sister and the rest of your family. My family.
I hadn't been to Green Bay since your memorial, a week after you died. I hadn't seen any of your relatives since the memorial at hunting camp, three months after you died. Without you, there was no reason to visit. It was too painful. We just drifted out of touch.
But last year, I reached out to my aunt. I wanted to connect again, in a fragile, tenuous way. And I wanted to introduce Rory to this side of my family. I wanted him to meet my uncles and aunts. It's the closest he'll ever get to meeting you.
And this year, Rory, Kate, Aidan, Colin, and I drove to Green Bay. We spent two days with the family. And it just so happened we were there on June 23rd. The fateful day. I knew it was going to be hard. Seeing people you hadn't seen in thirteen years is always awkward. I just didn't realize how deeply emotional it would be.
Everything seemed so familiar. Dave's house, with its stone walls and giant kitchen and set of stairs. The workshop, with your knifemaking bench still set up. The Packers logos everywhere. Dave himself, complete with long beard and grumpy expression and furrowed brow. Your brothers, joking around and talking about skydiving. Your sister, taking full control of every conversation. I fully expected to turn around and see you walk into the room. I think that was the worst part....I'd never been in that environment without you before. I could feel your presence, almost as strongly as I feel it on the Nowitna.
And yet you weren't there. You should have been. You should have been part of that gathering, making terrible jokes and telling stories and being the life of the party. You should have been drinking beer with your son-in-law, hugging your grandsons, teasing your daughters. You should have been there.
I'm glad I went. I'm glad Rory got to meet that side of my family, see that side of me. I feel like he knows you now, even thought he never met you. I'm glad Aidan and Colin have that connection with their grandpa and his family, even if they don't appreciate it at the moment. Someday they will. I'm glad I got to share memories and laugh about old stories with Kate. I never feel closer to my sister than when we talk about you. We are the only two people in the world with the experience of being your children, and we will always share that.
But still....it hurts. It hurts visiting Wisconsin without you. It hurts knowing all I have are memories. And the words "I miss you" can't capture how I truly feel. It's so much deeper than missing you...it's a longing, a hole in my heart that will never heal.
After Green Bay, we drove to the reunion with Mom's family. And Gary met us there. It was amazing to see Gary. It means so much that I've been able to keep that connection over the years. I never know how to describe Gary...a combination of your best friend/my uncle/my godfather. A constant presence in my life. We got to spend a day and a half with him, just hanging out and sharing stories. And Rory got to bond with him as well...if Rory couldn't meet you, at least he gets to know the next best thing.
I had a great time with Gary, and I'm deeply grateful he was able to arrange to meet us. But it still made me sad. Because you and Gary were a team. From the time I was born, I saw the two of you together, hunting and fishing and playing dominoes and driving the boat and telling stories and just being friends. And seeing him just made me miss you more.
Your grandson is a teenager now. Thirteen years old, six feet tall, curly hair, and a wide grin. He's not perfect. His whining and pettiness can get out of control sometimes. But he's a good kid, and he deserved the chance to get to know his grandpa. I often wonder how he (and all of us) would be different if he'd grown up with you around. That the universe took that away from him is something I will never be able to forgive.
It's been thirteen years. I still miss you every single minute of every single day. I love you, and I always will.
Always,
Emily
I didn't write my usual June 23rd post, the way I do every year. But this year was different. I was in Wisconsin, visiting your brothers and sister and the rest of your family. My family.
I hadn't been to Green Bay since your memorial, a week after you died. I hadn't seen any of your relatives since the memorial at hunting camp, three months after you died. Without you, there was no reason to visit. It was too painful. We just drifted out of touch.
But last year, I reached out to my aunt. I wanted to connect again, in a fragile, tenuous way. And I wanted to introduce Rory to this side of my family. I wanted him to meet my uncles and aunts. It's the closest he'll ever get to meeting you.
And this year, Rory, Kate, Aidan, Colin, and I drove to Green Bay. We spent two days with the family. And it just so happened we were there on June 23rd. The fateful day. I knew it was going to be hard. Seeing people you hadn't seen in thirteen years is always awkward. I just didn't realize how deeply emotional it would be.
Everything seemed so familiar. Dave's house, with its stone walls and giant kitchen and set of stairs. The workshop, with your knifemaking bench still set up. The Packers logos everywhere. Dave himself, complete with long beard and grumpy expression and furrowed brow. Your brothers, joking around and talking about skydiving. Your sister, taking full control of every conversation. I fully expected to turn around and see you walk into the room. I think that was the worst part....I'd never been in that environment without you before. I could feel your presence, almost as strongly as I feel it on the Nowitna.
And yet you weren't there. You should have been. You should have been part of that gathering, making terrible jokes and telling stories and being the life of the party. You should have been drinking beer with your son-in-law, hugging your grandsons, teasing your daughters. You should have been there.
I'm glad I went. I'm glad Rory got to meet that side of my family, see that side of me. I feel like he knows you now, even thought he never met you. I'm glad Aidan and Colin have that connection with their grandpa and his family, even if they don't appreciate it at the moment. Someday they will. I'm glad I got to share memories and laugh about old stories with Kate. I never feel closer to my sister than when we talk about you. We are the only two people in the world with the experience of being your children, and we will always share that.
But still....it hurts. It hurts visiting Wisconsin without you. It hurts knowing all I have are memories. And the words "I miss you" can't capture how I truly feel. It's so much deeper than missing you...it's a longing, a hole in my heart that will never heal.
After Green Bay, we drove to the reunion with Mom's family. And Gary met us there. It was amazing to see Gary. It means so much that I've been able to keep that connection over the years. I never know how to describe Gary...a combination of your best friend/my uncle/my godfather. A constant presence in my life. We got to spend a day and a half with him, just hanging out and sharing stories. And Rory got to bond with him as well...if Rory couldn't meet you, at least he gets to know the next best thing.
I had a great time with Gary, and I'm deeply grateful he was able to arrange to meet us. But it still made me sad. Because you and Gary were a team. From the time I was born, I saw the two of you together, hunting and fishing and playing dominoes and driving the boat and telling stories and just being friends. And seeing him just made me miss you more.
Your grandson is a teenager now. Thirteen years old, six feet tall, curly hair, and a wide grin. He's not perfect. His whining and pettiness can get out of control sometimes. But he's a good kid, and he deserved the chance to get to know his grandpa. I often wonder how he (and all of us) would be different if he'd grown up with you around. That the universe took that away from him is something I will never be able to forgive.
It's been thirteen years. I still miss you every single minute of every single day. I love you, and I always will.
Always,
Emily
