I asked God today why he took you away from me. However, looking back I knew it was a selfish question. I seem to be asking a lot of those lately. I suppose I’m but a daughter who reminisces too much in the past— and I just want to sit and talk to you again. I’ve always wanted to know how you fell in love with my mother. What it was about her that was different from anyone else? You know, I saw an old picture of you as the basketball coach back home. I didn’t know that, no wonder you were so good. You taught me so well. I’ve been teaching Mitch how to play tennis. You remember, you were the one who first played with me? He’s getting really good, to the point where unfortunately he can outplay me. Oh well, I’m ok with that.  He’s got a good spirit, your son. He’s grown up so well— he’s the man of the house now. You’d be so proud of him, because I know I am. I’m scared though— that I’ll forget about you as I get older. The real you. How you used to be. I’m sorry I was so stubborn when I was younger. I’m sorry I pushed you away in the years before you got sick. I never thought I would lose you. Youth, in all its energy, lacks patience and understanding. And I was such a foolish kid. I understand you now, Papa. I finally can understand. Although it’s too late and I hope you can forgive me.

But who am I kidding? This is all just wishful thinking. Words from a restless mind, stuck in regret and pain. We weren’t that different, you and I. But they say that it’s better to write your thoughts down, so as not to bottle things up inside like you did. I just hope someday, I can make you proud. I wonder what you would have said to me if you knew I’d be going to college. Or that I’m now half-way done. Some people don’t understand why I work so hard here. But they don’t know, that I do it all for you… everything. And one day if I’m gifted with kids of my own, I’ll tell them about their grandfather. Who worked so damn hard for his family and sacrificed his body and mind. I just wish it wasn’t the latter.