Dear Dad;
You've always been around. You were at all of my guitar recitals, choir concerts, and, naturally, graduations. You helped me move into college both times, even though going up and down three flights of stairs probably hurt your back. I learned a lot of my core values from you, like how you keep your job by always doing more work than you have to, leave things better than you found them, and the importance of a good cup of coffee.
When Mom went out of town and you had to take care of me, the experience was pretty lax. We went out for dinner a lot if she was only gone for a weekend. One of my earliest memories with you was when I learned to count backwards. I was four years old and Mom needed to go to Oregon after my grandmother had a heart attack. She was gone five days. Every day she was gone, you would tuck me in for the night and count down with me. Yesterday was the first day Mom was gone, so there's four days left to go until she comes home. The funny thing is, I don't remember the rest of those days and I don't remember mom coming home. That's how a lot of my memories from childhood are. I remember the little bits and pieces where you were home from work and hanging out with me. You never missed Christmas or Thanksgiving. You took me out to eat on the weekends. I remember you fixing toys and letting go of the back of my bike to teach me how to ride it on my own. Even though you worked on the weekdays so I didn't see you much outside of when you were at your computer or eating dinner with us, I remember your presence more than your absence.
I know that whether you're still working when I graduate college or not, you'll be there. I have full confidence that you'll be around for all the remaining big events in my life. I know your support will be quiet. It won't involve posters or airhorns at graduation or bouquets of flowers. It will be a hug and congratulations. It will probably involve celebrating with food after, with the rest of the family. Your support comes in places that don't involve your constant presence. It comes from you letting me follow my dreams (even if that means being a writer) and giving me the freedom to make my own decisions (even the bad ones).
Even though your support isn't always loud, I know it's there.
You've always been around when it mattered.
