The Things We Never Say to Dad
I was at Janet's recently. Her father had passed away, and I was there to offer my condolences. "He was a fine man," she said. "I'm going to miss him." I nodded. Then, after a little silence, she said something that stayed with me. "You know, Bob, our relationship hadn't been at its best these last couple of years. I was busy. Life got in the way. And there were things I kept meaning to tell him." She paused. "I wish I had told him how much I appreciated everything he did for our family. Even when things were difficult, he always managed to stay calm.” "I wish I had simply said… thank you." I didn't know what to say. But her words followed me home. Because perhaps that's one of the strange things about being human. We often know exactly what we feel. We just don't always say it. We assume there will be another Sunday. Another birthday. Another family dinner. Another quiet moment when we'll finally get around to saying the things that have been sitting inside us. Some fathers are wonderfully close to their children. Some relationships have old arguments, long silences, misunderstandings, or things neither person quite knows how to talk about. And that's okay. This isn't about fixing a relationship in five minutes. It's simply about noticing it. As I thought about Janet's story, I found myself thinking about my own father. And I had a rather simple thought: I should call him. Not to discuss anything important. Not to have a profound conversation. Just to say hello. Perhaps I'll visit him. Perhaps I'll tell him something I've never quite found the right moment to say. I don't know yet. But strangely, just thinking about doing it made me feel a little better. Maybe that's the funny thing about reaching out. Sometimes the first person who feels lighter isn't the person on the other end of the phone. It's you. So, sometime today, perhaps let your mind wander for a moment. If your father could hear just one thing from you today, what would you want him to know? It doesn't have to be "I love you." It could be "I remember that." "I appreciate that." "I'm glad you did that for me." Or simply: "Hi, Dad. How are you?" A phone call might feel right. A visit might feel better. An ecard might say what words can't. Or perhaps you're not ready for any of those things. That's okay too. The important thing is that someone came to mind. And sometimes, paying attention to who comes to mind is the beginning of something. Happy Sunday, Bob
Join the conversation