Father's Day

June 17, 2018

Dear Dad,
We are slowly yet rapidly approaching one year since your soul left to your eternal home. I remember everything so vividly from that day, and, ironically, the past year has been mostly a happysad blur. My heart hurts a lot. I didn't think I would be able to deal with another family member's death, and yet here I am. I'm pushing through each day.
I'm married now. Your little Macky Wacky has a husband. Can you believe it? I wish you could have been there physically with us that day. But I'm grateful that you were able to meet Jamison before you left, even if it was brief.
I miss hearing your encouragement. I miss your constant faith in me. You always knew what to say and you always had the right advice (at least, advice that I was willing to listen to (sorry Mom)).
I played tennis with Jamison's family on memorial day. I told them how you made me bring my racket to college in case a boy ever asked me on a tennis date (surprise: that never happened). I forgot how much I love tennis and I'm grateful for those countless Sundays that you would take us kids to the park to play.
I hope you and Julian are doing well. We miss you so, so much. I can't even begin to find the words to tell you just how much. I would give anything to be able to call y'all right now. Was it good to see your mom again? Is Fatty up there somewhere? It's scary to think of how much of my mortal life I (probably) have left and how much you won't be here for. 
This is our first Father's Day without you. Last year I mailed you a (pathetically) homemade tie — I gave it to David now, I hope that's okay — and fun, bright dress socks. You always trusted my taste, and although you probably got sick of me getting you clothing items for every holiday, I appreciate you never mentioning how uncreative my gifts to you were. I will forever cherish the picture of you, at church, wearing the tie you bought to match the socks from last Father's Day.
One of the last text messages that I have from you is you telling me that you're proud of me. But I'm proud of you, Dad. I'm proud of how great of a father you were able to be despite your own father's example (or lack thereof). I'm proud of how smart and successful you were and how you were always learning and bettering yourself. I'm proud of the family that you and Mom created and I'm proud of your eternal marriage. I'm proud of your faith that led me to mine.
I am so grateful for the 8,252 days that we were on this earth at the same time, and I can't wait to hug you at least 8,252 times when I see you again. I love you Dad. I look forward to our heavenly reunion someday. I pray that you are happy and doing okay, and that we can someday say the same about us here without you.
Yours truly,
McKay

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