Dear Dad,
Been thinking about you and your red sneakers lately. Guess I'm wishing we could go for a walk, the way we always did before the boys were born. Thinking about it now, I wonder why we stopped taking those day trips and walking around looking at stuff--and looking for a great ice cream or fro-yo shop. You had such a knack for finding them! Nowadays, I would think you had Googled them before we left, but there was nothing but your good nose, and maybe some work connection that had visited before. Today, I'm wishing we could do that again. My guys don't see ice cream as a treat so much; rather, to them it's a staple. Sorry about that. I still remember, though.
Anyway, with Jonathan's college search, I find myself remembering our discussions from my own days debating my options. This morning, at Drew's Confirmation breakfast Mass, Msgr King encouraged the parents and sponsors to allow and encourage our confirmandi to make life decisions; to learn who they are, to make mistakes, to cry, to rejoice, and to grow into the adults they are destined to be. I had a wonderful example in you. Although, looking back, there is a part of me that wishes you and Mom and my teachers had just flat out told me what to do, I do appreciate that you left my college choices to me. I remember the late night talks we'd have in the kitchen, discussing the relative merits of fields of study as diverse as Social Work and International Law, the reasons Hotel/Restaurant Management was perfect for me, and then, of course, why Hotel/Restaurant Management was so not me, so clearly I should change my major to Recreation and Leisure Management. And after that, why it made such perfect sense for me to leave school with an AS, and go back in two years or so to get a Bachelor's in Secondary Education, so I could be an English teacher. There are times when I wish I could have told you that I wish fewer people had told me I had the talents and intelligence to be whatever I wanted to be. I don't know if I ever told you that my real dream was to go to SUNY Purchase and study dance. God only knows what I had planned to do with the rest of my life, but not having the nerve to audition has been the only real regret I've ever had. I doubt that I told you, because I'm fairly certain you would have gladly taken me, and waited outside the door, and given me one of those wonderful left-arm hugs before I even had a chance to change my shoes. We're trying to be as open-minded and supportive of Jonathan. It's scary and exciting all at once, and I wish you were here to reassure us, to give us pointers. To offer one of those hugs that had a way of making everything okay.
We're slowly working on some of those house projects I'd hoped you would be able to help with. The boys have pulled up that hideous carpet, and we just need to decide what we'll do with the floor now. The chimney still need to be tiled, and I was just looking at the ceiling today and remembering how devoted you were to breaking off each and every one of the 'stalagtites' in the bathroom and the front bedrooms when we moved in. They do--still--look far better than they had, and I thank you for it every time I look up at them. The kitchen is the next thing on the agenda, I think, and every time I think about it, I picture you, Guy and Ryan debating who should be the first to break through the wall to the outside. Sometimes, I look around and think that you would have helped get some project or other done faster, but then I remember that even if you had moved here, you'd be busy, too. You'd have made a life here, and many of the projects would have taken a backseat to life--just like they do now. And I smile with relief. We're doing okay; the best we can with what we have, as far as time and money. It'll all be okay.
So, in a nutshell, I guess I want to make sure you know that we're doing well. I'm doing okay. There are ups and downs, and times when I get angry, confused, frustrated, lonely, but there are more times when I see the blessings in my life: the boys (including Guy), our home, our jobs, our friends and families. Life is really good. It would be better if you were here, but we--I--have to make the most of what we have today. What could have been is fine to think about now and then, but it's only made up. Realness helps to make what could be possible. That's my focus. Thank you for giving me the strength to be me; for encouraging me to make my own life happen. That helped me to find the people I need when I find myself faltering. I love you. I miss you with all my heart--often. But now, it's more often a gentle tug, and feels almost 'right.'
Have a piece of cake for me, and I'll do the same.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Stephania
xoxo
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