Monday, July 3 2006 at 5:53pm

Dear Dad

The following is a letter I’ve written to my dad, I’m not sure I’ll send it to him, but I did want to share it. I’ve always been close with my dad in my mind, but recently things happened and doors opened and I’ve been able to see the truth of the situation as opposed to my minds camouflage. This is emotionally heavy and I apologize for that, but it helps me heal the wounds to share.

Hi, it’s James, your son. Dad listen, how’s it going? Are they treating you well? Is it hard? I’m writing to let you know I forgive you. I can’t forget what you’ve done, but I can forgive you for it and that’s important for you to know. I do love you, I wish you were here old man. I really do. I need my dad, even at 31 I still need you to be there.

I have a few things I need to get off my chest to help me deal with the idea of what you’ve done and why you’re where you are at 51 after a lifetime of staying out of trouble. I don’t really understand your motives or actions, but I do understand the drugs and the alcohol that gave you the courage to do the things you did, or maybe I should say gave you the brass dangles. either way it was shocking when I first heard about it, the concern and worry, the anger I felt was all very real and very hard, I was/am conflicted. How could you do that when you know what happened to me in Portola?

I want you to know I’m not angry anymore, I just miss being able to call you and talk.

When I was a boy, you weren’t always there for me, I used to think I remembered you being there, but I realize now that it was my brain altering my memories so that I could hide away the bad things that happened to me, and also the bad times we had in our family that you were the center and cause of.

I do remember lots of terrific things about you that you taught me growing up and things that were not so great that you left me.

I remember listening to you talk about aquariums and fish. I remember staring at your aquariums with you for hours looking back and forth at the aquariums and you in wonder, thinking how smart you were and how cool it was that you could sit down on your haunches for so long without getting tired or needing to stretch your legs. I remember going to work with you and being so impressed at how you could calculate complex, fraction math in your head—without making any mistakes. I remember how angry you were and how easily you flew off the handle. I remember wanting to be like you but not be you at the same time. I remember loving you and being afraid when mom told us you were leaving to be with another woman. I remember all the times throughout my life that you’ve let me down. I remember all the times I’ve tried to share an experience with you that you were just to busy to hear, and how you always waited to talk instead of listening. I remember when I visited you in rehab and wanted to share all the things I had created with my LEGO bricks that you had bought for me and how you were so caught up in your own life that you ignored me that day, I was 7. I remember watching Dr. Who with you in your apartment the first time you and mom split. I remember how much it hurt when I heard the news. I remember how when you were sober, you were a different man, kinder, gentler, smarter. I remember it all now.

Why did you do it?

Why?

I want you to know I didn’t become you, I’ve become your polar opposite, I care what my sons have to say, I make time to be there, I listen, I learn from them, I hug them, I try to be the best dad I can, I explore in wonder and impressed amazement the creations they build from LEGO bricks. When they’re 31 I want them to look at me and see the same hero they see now at 7 and 4. I don’t do drugs, I don’t drink, I don’t treat my wife with disregard and contempt, I don’t cheat on her, I love my job, I don’t dream, I do. I’m happy with my life.

Dad, I miss you and I’m afraid I’ll never see you again, I’m afraid that at 31 this may be the last time I remember you.

I love you dad, I always have.