Today I went to Blog Out Loud Ottawa and read the post I wrote after I graduated with my B.A. (Hons) in June last year. The post was a letter to you, telling you about making it. At the time I had finished my exams, graduated and gotten accepted to the MPM program.
It’s hard to believe that you died almost a year ago. That life was thrown off course and steadied that long ago. Because here I am, having finished all the coursework for my Masters. I’m doing my internship now, a good one, one that will help kids, and then I will be able to officially have B.A., MPM on my CV.
I didn’t know if I could do it, and then I became pretty sure that I could. In fact, at times, it seemed almost easy. Because I’m smart and I work hard. I’m dedicated and I found something that I’m passionate about. I have that thing that you had your whole career.
I am passionate about the work I do and I’m still the mom that my kid needs.
Look at her Dad. I can’t fathom going on endless business trips and leaving her behind. I can’t imagine being away for weeks at a time. A few hours and I’m excited to see her again. I can’t imagine her not knowing what country I’m in, let alone when I’ll be home.
She cried for you tonight. She misses you, and I miss you for her. You were a better grandfather than you were a father to me, though some of that was undoubtedly my fault. But it almost feels like you’ve failed me again by dying before my daughter got to be your granddaughter. And by dying before I got to really be who I am now, instead of the me I was for so long.
I wish we hadn’t been so much alike, or at least both recognized it in each other. I wish we had been better people together.
In November I graduate. Probably the last time. And once again I will walk through the Field House and I will look for your face in the crowd like last time, and I’ll cry again when you’re not there to see me. We should have had more time, but I have things here that I need to make the most of.