Dear Dad,

Years ago I studied with a psychiatrist who suggested that whenever we part from someone we love we should be complete. If we never see them again we will have said everything we needed to say, and heard everything we needed to hear.  Dad, I think you and I did that quite well with each other.

You died unexpectedly, a few days after each of us had been released from different hospitals. I had been in and out of the hospital for almost two months. The last time we saw each other we parted, as we always did, with a mutual “I love you.”

I know you were proud of me because you told me often. I know you said the same thing to many others.  Approval is important to every child, and I thank you for yours. I have done my best to carry your gift forward into the world – often telling my children, your grandchildren, that I love them and I’m proud of them. 

I don’t remember ever specifically telling you how grateful I am for all of the many life lessons you taught me, so I’d like to mention some of them now.

1. Treat everyone, no matter who they are, with respect.  I apply that lesson every day.
2. Plan for the future.  I know you grew up during the Great Depression, and when you were young you were concerned with saving enough money for the future.  I’m also a saver, and I think we both did a good job with that.
3. Work hard.  When you were a teenager you practiced the French Horn for three hours a day after school, and six hours a day when school was not in session.  That’s why you successfully auditioned for the position of First Horn with the Washington, D.C. Philharmonic Orchestra when you were eighteen, and the same position with the Minneapolis Philharmonic when you were nineteen.  I may have been a bit behind you, but I’ve certainly worked diligently ever since I started my own business at the age of twenty-seven.
4. Discuss problems openly and calmly with your family.  I’m grateful that when I was very young you started a “Family Conference.”  Whenever any of us had a problem with another family member you called a “Family Conference” in which we each could talk as long as we needed, without interruption.  We solved many problems that way. My eight-year-old self thanks you for the respect and my adult self thanks you for modeling that open communication.
5. Do what you love.  You encouraged me to become a CPA, and also to pursue my writing.

Dad, there is so much more, but I think I’ve hit some of the high points.

I hope you’re happy wherever you are now. I want you to know that every day I remember you and appreciate your wisdom and your confidence in me.

Thank you.

Love, Alan