Nothing Creative Today

Dear Dad,
I’ve been thinking about what to write this year for almost a month now and I’m still not sure as to what I should say. It’s not raining, and today doesn’t feel like the other 3 times I’ve done this. I think it’s because of the sunshine. I wish it were raining.

Just like before, this past year has been different than the others. I’ve been working really hard on some projects, and am going to finally graduate next spring. I have no idea what I’m going to do once I do, a friend suggested that I sit at coffee shops and capture photographs while he reads books. So far that seems to be my best prospect.

I still think about you frequently, only now I don’t break down. I still miss you, and am reminded of you constantly. My new boss reminds me a lot of you, as does a random member of UPAC. I think you’d like them both. I think you’d like most of my friends. I know I talked about this last year, but it is still so strange that you are gone and it still blows my mind how much everything has changed since that Sunday. I have the greatest friends in the world, I wish you knew them.

I wish you were still here. These past few months have been sort of difficult for me personally. If you were still alive, I don’t think I’d really talk to you about dating, but at least you’d be here to hate my boyfriends. Do you realize that you died before I really dated anyone? I’m sure you do. It’s just so strange.

It’s so strange that you don’t know me anymore.

I spent about a month and a half unemployed this year. I thought about you a lot during that time. I never realized what you were dealing with during your stint of unemployment. I’m so sorry you had to go through that for so long, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t more understanding. I was so unforgiving, and so young. I didn’t realize how complicated things actually were. I just saw everything from my perspective and refused to see otherwise. I don’t think that I could have done anything differently to help you, but I wish I had been more patient and more forgiving. I’m so sorry.

This year, a lot of people have told me that I am like you. It makes me feel like you live on through me, and I am proud of that. I’ve been accused by multiple people of being a “thinker” and have been told not to “think too much.” Mom tells me that I over-think things just like you did and that I should be careful as to avoid your fate. I don’t know how to decrease the time I spend thinking, and I don't want to. I am glad that I’m categorized as an “over-thinker.” Thank you for that trait. It is the reason I write, the reason I create. Over thinking makes me who I am. It's the reason why I care so much, and the reason why I still cry every October 17.

I still get angry with you from time to time, and I’m still frustrated that you couldn’t stop, but I understand. It’s hard to confess that you can’t control something. I know I would have a hard time confessing. If I got over my pride, it’d be too probably be too late for me too. I still don’t understand addiction like I want to, and I probably never will. Only recently have I honestly taken into account the emotional side to it.

You just did it. You didn’t think about it, you didn’t think about who it would affect, even that it would affect anyone. It was your life, and I think on some level, you thought that you were only hurting yourself. I’m slowly learning that what I do affects other people. I’ve been really spineless lately Dad, and I’m so ashamed. I wish you were here to tell me to sack up and be the person that I know I am.

I’m a little embarrassed about this post this year, because nowadays I actually have readers that aren’t your sisters, my girls, and Mom once in a while. But this blog has been such a crucial part of my coping, that it wouldn’t feel right to do otherwise.

I miss you so much.

Love,
Mal