Those days watching you work in the house and the short time of peace we had were good days. I believe it made you proud to put the work into making that a home. When I remember those days I think the thing that stands out the most is that you didn’t have to work so hard to do anything and didn’t become short of breath so fast. You were still pretty active and now thinking back you were pushing fifty. It’s funny how the weight of life can wear on someone and break them down isn’t it? To make one age faster than it should, of course those damn cigarettes didn’t help you any. I know, I know us who live in glass houses shouldn’t cast stones.
I loved to listen to you talk, no matter what age I was growing up it was always something I enjoyed. It never matter who you were talking to it was always just interesting to listen to the stories you would tell and sometimes how deep your bull shitting could get. I was never amazed with how many people you knew and how many people seemed to like you. I just wonder where they all were when we laid you to rest and said our final goodbyes. You had always been there for them in their time of need. The first one to go to someone’s aid if they gave you a call. You always did it out of the kindness of your heart. I will always remember you telling me when I asked why you did so much for others for nothing. “Kindness doesn’t cost a dime kiddo, always be kind and never attach a price to it because that is where greed starts to breed.”
I suppose the thing that I will always regret is that even though I loved to listen to you talk I didn’t engage you in conversation as much as I wish I would have now. Those story you told I could be repeating to my kids now, in keeping their grandfather alive but I was too dumb to understand how much the smallest of things would mean later on in life. The stories I tell now of who you were. When I do something and they question why I do it for free when we are often barely getting by. I repeat what you said to me. I think you’d be proud knowing that kindness you placed in my heart is now filling your grand kids hearts as well. None of us will ever be trust fund babies but they have been given something more valuable. The legacy of kindness. That started with you.
The days of us first moving in and you working on the house kinda reminds me of the calm before a nor’easter hits Maine. With mom being, so dare I say, almost nice to live with. It wouldn’t take long for all hell to break loose but I suppose I shouldn’t jump ahead of my story in this letter to you now should I dad. Well dad, as always with each word I write of you in here I treasure you more and miss you even that much more. Who knows dad maybe writing this book will help me let go of you in death but I wouldn’t hold your breath over it. Six years later and I still want to pick up a phone and tell you I can’t live without you. The hole is the deepest and this is still the hardest thing I’ve even endured.