To My Dad

Generally I post stories or short bursts of insomniac or depression fueled rantings.  Today I feel like writing something different.  It's a letter to my Dad.  Unfortunately when I try to write it directly to him I break down and can't finish.  Sorry, but it's written to everyone else, but it is everything I want to say to my Dad but can't seem to figure out how when we're together.

Dear Dad,

Recently I took a nearly two month long vacation to visit my family and fiance.  It was spur of the moment and completely out of the blue, like all my best decisions are.  It was a blast, and I learned a few things.  To truly understand some of those things we have to look deep into my past, a place I don't usually go.  Too many bad memories, too many old wounds, but I've a feeling it's time to dig them up and show them off.  Like a biker showing off his old scars to impress the ladies.

I was born in Kanab UT, a small town in the southern end of the state.  My family still lives there, or most of it.  Mom and Dad and my younger brother.  My younger sister goes to college just to the north, and visits every summer and on Sundays to watch football with my Dad.  I'm the eldest, and I live the farthest away from home, three hundred and fifty miles away.

I have memories that stretch back almost all the way to the time I was two.  I even have some very fuzzy memories of a maternity ward, although whether those are fact or fantasy I can't say.  The point is this, I remember things.  It's one of my greatest talents.  When I told my father this as a teen, he scoffed and told me to prove it.  He flipped to the news and we watched for about thirty seconds, then he flipped away.  He asked me what the reporters had been wearing and I recited it down to the tacky wrist watch of one fellow.

That pretty much sums up my relationship with my Dad.  I would try to get his attention, try to make him proud of me, and I would always feel like I came up short.  Like I wasn't smart, or fast, or strong enough.  Like I wasn't a good enough son.

When I was a kid, six or seven maybe, Dad wasn't around much.  He left for work early in the morning, and would arrive home after my bedtime.  He was also an Intermediate EMT and a volunteer tech director and MC for the community, despite the fact we grew up in an intensely Mormon area and he is not Mormon.  In short, he worked his ass off so that I could live the best life possible and enjoy a good family reputation.  He didn't start being around or paying a lot of attention until I was in high school.  I attribute this change partly to my love of football, and partly to the death of my twin cousins.

We've never been on the best of terms.  He's a stubborn, arrogant, pompous ass, and I'm not any better.  He's probably the single best man I've ever known.  When I was a teenager I said many hurtful things.  To say I didn't mean them at the time would be a lie, but I do regret them now.  It's only been in the past year or so that I've realized how good a man my Father is, and how hard he tries to be a good Dad.

From the ground up, and without a college degree, he has made a career, bought a house, and built enough financial standing to get a loan so that I can attend college.  He taught me almost every thing I know about Theater Production and Tech, as well as pushing me to get my EMT certification and to go to college for something I love.  He is one of the greatest driving forces in my life, and I wouldn't be the man I am today without him.

I've only recently learned how proud he is of me.  He doesn't say it often, and a couple of years ago I would have missed it entirely.  But now, I don't know why or how, I see it more.  Maybe that's part of growing up, being able to see how the world works and what people mean behind what they say.

Dad, I love you. I'm so proud to be your son, and so proud of everything you've done and continue to do for our family.  I know now that no matter what happens, you will always love me and you're proud of me.  You're truly amazing, in so many ways that I will never be able to explain to you.  I'm so very grateful for everything you've done to help me.  The road has never been straight or smooth, but you've always been there when I've needed.  I'm sure that we will continue driving each other nuts, but I love you.  You're the best man I've ever met.

Proudly your son,
David F Owens III