A letter to my dad, on Mother's Day.
Dear Dad -
I really miss you today. It’s Mother’s Day, and Mommy was so good to me as she always is (I did make her lunch, to be clear), and yet I just can’t stop wishing you were here, too. I haven’t cried a lot since you’ve been gone, but today I’m fairly overcome.
We planted the tree you and I talked about last fall - a montmorency cherry. Mommy helped me. The tree is really pretty, about seven feet tall. We took apart the second raised bed to make room for the tree. I know you and I talked about putting the tree further back, closer to the garage, but if I’m honest, I really only have the time (patience) for one raised bed. The flagstone from the raised bed was used to make a path to the back gate. It was Ernie’s idea, I think you’d like it.
The guys helping needed a bunch of tools. I had enough to get the job done, but I couldn’t help think that you have all the things I needed: a dirt rake, a chisel, another shovel. When I was younger (okay, even as of yesterday) I hated doing chores and yard work, but what I wouldn’t give to work with you again on this stuff. Remember when I thought that I would trim the edge of my grass by hand, and lasted not even a week, crying “uncle” and you bought me an electric edger? You were right: tools with power are always the answer. So are paid lawnscapers.
We took a few moments, Mommy, Ernie and me, to sit on the patio. My patio furniture is the original set you and Mom got, all the way back in the 90’s. The half of the set you got (I have Mom’s half) still has the white and green striped fabric. Nostalgia abounds. I also planted strawberries this year. They remind me of our garden we had at the Castle Pines house, full and lush, including flowers (flobbies), currant bushes, raspberry bushes, and of course, strawberries. Memories from way back in the day.
It’s been two months since I talked to you last. Today was meant for Mom, and yet, here I am, crying about you. Thank you for picking her to be my mom. All she has ever done is be there for me. She held me close today as we both teared up looking at the cherry tree in the ground for the first time. You might not have been meant to be married forever, but you are the best forever parents. The friendship the two of you shared was deep, and carried long after your divorce. It remains an inspiration, an example to be followed.
I was worried I wasn’t getting any signs from you the past couple of weeks, but I think I heard from you today. The Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker” came on my Spotify this afternoon as I was surveying the yard; I knew it must have been you. I wish I could hear from you more often, but I am happy to make do with a song about a joker and a smoker, a midnight toker, who plays his music in the sun. I won’t mention the peaches.
I love you. Bleecker also sends her love, she misses her grandpa. Send down some good weather for what I now call the “EBC tree”, and for the rest of the garden. If Bleecker can’t shoo off the squirrels from the strawberries, I’d appreciate an “act of Ed”.
Love,
Your Sweet Hunny Bun