To the second best man watching me from overhead,

The 19 years, nine months, nine days, ten hours, and four minutes you spent of your life being my father were moments I could never think to want to wish away.

I can still hear the echoing incessant nights of drunk yelling in my head today. The never-ending sense of disappointment that always seemed to find a home on your face. The times you let your grumpy and sheltered heart affect the relationships with your children will never cast a shadow to the light that derived from the endless amount of night and days you spent praying for me. Protecting me from the world, providing for me, pushing me to be the best and also loving me unconditionally with every possible ounce of your heart that you could.

In your life, you gave me so much and, at the end of yours, I couldn’t gather myself together to do the same. I couldn’t find the strength within me to let down the walls you instilled, to set aside the resentment and speak aloud things that you deserved to hear.

Honestly, I was skeptical of you being able to hear me at all, regardless of what the hospice lady had to say.

So, here are a few things I feel like you should know, even though I’m sure you already know them by now. Putting them into real words is what you wholeheartedly deserve.

I’m sorry for the things in my life that I’ve kept hidden from you when I knew all you’ve ever wanted from me was the honesty and truth that you were entitled to. I’m sorry for not ever being the picture perfect daughter you wanted, but I’m thankful that you found a way to love me until your last breath. I’m sorry for the terrible things I ever said to you when they were far from the truth of your character.

I’m sorry I never told you “I love you” enough. I’m sorry for being selfish when you taught me otherwise.

You’ll never yell at me in the weird Hungarian language you never really taught me. You’ll never thump me on the head every time I said “like” too many times in a sentence. It devastates me knowing that you’ll never watch me walk the stage on my college graduation day or that you’ll never be able to tell me if the guy I’m going to marry one day is the right one.You'll never get to walk me down the aisle or be able to hold your grandchildren.

I know I’m just being selfish, but I can’t help it. These were things you were ideally supposed to be here for and I resented you for not being able to physically be a part of these moments in my life.

However, I have found comfort in knowing that you are still and will always be there every step of the way. I know sometimes you mentioned how you thought you were inadequate to be a father to me and, in some cases, I agree.

I’m sorry I never set my pride aside in time to express it. You did the best that you could and I’ve never been more grateful for the life you laid out for me.

I lost it. I lost faith in the man that I thought you were. You were my hero and, to see the the strongest man show weakness, was the biggest tear down of my heart.

I struggle coming to terms knowing that somehow it was deemed okay for you to suffer like you did. All I know is that you’re okay now and there is no more suffering.

We’re going to be okay daddy. You raised us like you needed to. You set the foundation for the people we are to become.

Everything we do is going to be for you and we want to make you proud till our very last breath; just like you did.

Cancer Sucks.

Daddy, I miss you. More than words can ever express, but somehow I think you know that. Thank you for being my heart, my world and my precious guardian angel.

I love you.