Dear Dad,

As the French would say, you have been missing from me lately.

I’m sick. I’ve been exhausted this week and the hard things seem to be mounting. I haven’t been able to get to the gym, I haven’t been doing anything for myself, really.

Yesterday I felt happy. I woke up in the morning feeling confident and excited about work things. This morning, maybe because it was dark and rainy/snowy outside, felt bleaker. And these exciting work things are things I wish I could share with you. And overall there are a lot of conversations I wish we could have. Even more that I wish we had. I wish I had had the guts to sit down with you and ask you some real questions.

Though I now understand that you were proud of me, in the end, of where I had gotten from where I had been, I suspect that I was the child you never wanted. I think, though, that we could have gotten along well as grown ups.

I could have forgiven your mistakes and your selfishness. And my selfishness. You could have seen how much like you I am. We could have shared interests. I could have put aside unreasonable expectations.

We could be having real, intense conversations right now about all the things that are happening. You would challenge me and I would rise to meet you.

The father that you were shaped me. I never knew how much I would miss you when you were gone, I never knew how desperately I wanted to be your daughter. Sometimes I wonder if I even knew who you were.