Dear Wildman,
This letter is long overdue. To count the times I tried to write this is absolutely impossible, mostly because I feel quite silly trying to fit in all of the things I want to say. However, maybe I can touch on the basics. Let’s start at high school.
Thank God you missed those days. You thought I was indignant when I was directing plays in our living room? 17-year-old me would have put that monster to shame. I thought I was incredibly grown, which makes me laugh now knowing that I am still far from considering myself an “adult.”
I wish you could’ve been here to see mom freak out over the “college” thing. She’s incredibly spastic, but I am sure you are more than aware. Let me tell you about the controversy I started when I figured out journalism wasn’t in the books for me. I don’t know who was more upset, me or a few of your old Harlan buddies who just knew I was destined to be the next Katie Couric.
Out of everything I find myself being curious about, I frequently crave your insight. I wish I could get your opinion on most things in my life, particularly boys. People always say, “Women end up marrying their father.” Well the fools I have come in contact with are surely not living up to that expectation. Sure, not everyone I have dated was bad—one, specifically, is wonderful. However, I would love to hear your guidance. I want you to tell me that boys are stupid and don’t know how to live life yet. I want to hear about how you fell in love with mom. I want to dance with you at my wedding, millions of years away from now.
If you could see my baby brother, you would faint. He looks so much like you, it’s petrifying. And this child is too close to not being a child anymore for my comfort. He kisses girls, dad. On the mouth, from what I understand. Is that not mortifying? I sometimes yearn for him to have had you around longer. Four years of you was just not enough. I sometimes feel cheated because I was only granted eight years of your life, but I suppose the memories I have of you are somewhat more vivid than his.
That’s another thing, I hope you aren’t too angry that I don’t remember your voice like I want to. I long to remember something really astounding that you said that could stand as a life motto. So far, I’ve got nothing.
I went to Europe! I also got a tattoo—in Europe. Cool, huh? I heard that you were not the tamest human being on the planet, so I feel like you would appreciate that. I think you and I would have been best friends. You would have laughed at all of the stupid stunts I have pulled (I hope).
It never fails that any time someone posts about you on Facebook, hundreds of people talk about how awesome you were. You were a pretty popular cat. They say that you were so funny and caring, and that you made such a difference in the world. You definitely did in mine. Every decision I have ever made has been done with you in mind. Mom says that’s why I’m so “strong.” I have to tell you, strength is not something I feel like I possess, but I carry you with me everywhere I go. If I do nothing right, I know that somewhere, you are proud. And that’s all I could ask for.
Let’s do this again sometime. I miss you, pops.
Forever and Always
