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2004-10-09 @ 10:44 p.m.
a letter to heaven

Dear Dad:

Happy 75th Birthday. See I remembered. How are things in heaven? Do they have cable TV there? I know how much you loved watching the news. I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing and tell you how much I miss you. I really, really miss you. But I think you know that.

As usual, I didn’t know what to get you for your birthday. Not that UPS delivers to heaven. I never did know what to get you for your birthday anyways. You were sort of the guy with least materialistically. I know happiness eluded you much of your life and that depression kicked your ass almost as much as me, so I decided to just offer up a photo of you and I. Remember this?

Well, you did have Alzheimer’s Disease, so you probably don’t remember, but this was you and I in the 1970’s. I was still in high school and we were at the Sonoma County Fair in Santa Rosa, California. I was really groovin’ with those cool 1970’s sunglasses, wasn’t I? I loved photo booths and used to drag everyone into them.

This was our one and only Photobooth Adventure, I think, but you really got the gist of it...Look into the camera, and act incredibly silly by the third frame. ha, ha, ha. Good job, Dad! You look like you just graduated from Maniacal Dad School, Dad. You used to do that face for me a lot. It was actually a gorilla face and you’d usually accompany it with ape-like gestures and make “Ook, Ook” noises. You’d do it to make me laugh. And it usually worked...except when I was a teenager trying to look cool for the photobooth camera.

I definitely think I got my expressive face from you though. And my bluish green eyes. People would always think I looked like mom when they saw us together, but I think I looked like you. I mean, not exactly. But we had the same high forehead. The same thoughtful expression. The same posture. The same shaped hands and elbows. And I got my Irishness from you. And my love of walking. And my personality from you, Dad. I definitely got my personality from you...Quiet. Shy. Not able to express their feelings particularly well.

But its really our bi-weekly phone calls I miss. Its not that they were particularly exciting or stimulating. We’d say hello. You’d ask me about the weather. I’d ask you about yours. I’d ask you how you were feeling. You’d ask me about work. But it was something I depended on. People who have family and friends asking them how they are every day take this stuff for granted. I don’t. I can’t. I don’t have that anymore and I really miss it. And even though our calls were mundane, I knew that you cared about me Dad. And I didn’t even realize how important it was at the time, until I lost it. And lost you.

So I hope you have a great birthday, Dad. And that they (the folks taking care of you in heaven) have a big cake with tons of ice cream, since I know how much you LOVED ice cream. So please take care, and know that I love you and miss you with all of my heart. Happy birthday Dad.
Your loving daughter, witty

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty