A Year of Stories (Collection Three)

Seven of Twelve

Hey kid,

I know it's been a while since you heard from me last, I'm sorry about that.

It's just hard, you know?

Hard to figure out what to say, what not to say, when to say it...

No one ever told me that being a Dad would be so tricky, and despite what you might have heard, they don't give you a manual.

Hopefully by the time you have a kid, they'll have worked that part out.

So, how's life?

That probably sounds pretty stupid coming from me, and given our circumstances, more than a little useless, but believe me when I say – there is nothing in the world that would make me happier than knowing that you are well.

Promised I wasn't going to cry this time...let's move on.

Keeping those grades up? Of course you are, you always were the smart one in the family...don't tell your brother.

Seriously, don't tell him, I'll deny everything. Maybe I already have, you don't know!

You must be close to graduating by now.

That means you're either about to head off to Medical School, or you're gearing up to become a Formula One driver. Either way, I'm more proud of you than you could ever know.

I want you to remember that, and know that whatever you decide to do, you'll always have me in your corner.

I guess it's time for the advice portion of this thing.

What's the point in being an absentee father, if you're not going to leave some trite advice for your son to ignore.

I'll try to keep it short this time.

1. If you haven't already, find someone to love, who loves you back. Remember, both parts are important.

2. Live for more than money. Time is your most precious gift, and as you grow older, it will only become more precious.

3. Learn to be patient with others. You of all people should know that, life can be cruel enough without you adding to it.

4. Find something to believe in. It doesn't have to be work or school, it doesn't have to be important to anyone but you, as long as you believe in it with all of your heart.

5. Get more sleep – knowing you – you need it.

Alright, this has gone on long enough, and if I don't close this thing off pretty soon, I'm going to break that promise about crying.

Tell your mom "hello" from me, I already have, but it never hurts to cover your bases.

Make sure your brother hasn't been reading ahead, he never was the patient one.

And last but not least, smile...

I'm serious, the last thing I wanted when I wrote these letters was to have you lock yourself up in your room every couple of years, and waste time crying over your stupid, dead dad.

If you really want to do something to honor my memory, then smile, it's all I ever really wanted.

You have five more of these waiting for you, open the next one when you get engaged...and make sure your mom doesn't see it.

All my love,

Dad