WARNING. Post of a personal nature.

Today in church I was talking to a friend who's father is sick. As we were talking my mind naturally turned to my Dad and how much I miss him. It's been over a year now since he died. About 8 months ago I wrote a letter to my Dad as a way to express my feelings and get down on paper a little of who he was and the difference he had made to my life. I have thought many times about what I would do with the letter. It's just been sitting on my desktop. I decided today to post it as part of my month chronicling things I am thankful for. There are more than 5 things in this letter that I am thankful for. The letter is of a personal nature and I have struggled over whether to post it or not but I want people to know how I felt about Dad and the kind of person he was.

Dear Dad

I’ll always remember you sitting on the shore of Lake Ullswater, with your watercolors beside you. The rest of us would sit somewhere close by enjoying the unsurpassed beauty. While we only looked at it, you could capture it forever. People would pass by and often stop to admire your work. I always felt such pride in your talents. My Dad was an artist. I don’t think I have as much talent as you did in your little finger but the urge to create I know came in the most part from you. Once we all got older it became a sort of competition as to who had the most originals by Alan Boycott. Being the eldest and the one to get married and create a home first I was always winning. The paintings and drawings you made especially for me will always rank amongst my most treasured possessions. I can’t ever pass a day without thinking of you since your work takes pride of place on my walls.

I’ll never forget how much you loved me and how my insignificant problems, mostly during those turbulent school days affected you. It was hard for you to see me upset and crying. When a boy at school pushed me into a locker and I came home with a bruise on my arm, you called his parents and made sure it would never happen again. That kind of thing shapes a young 15 year old girl. I felt secure in the affection and protection of my father. I know that I often wished that I would get the amount of pocket money you wanted to give me instead of the amount suggested by Mum. It was a ridiculous amount but that’s how indulgent you were.

Of course, we have spent our most memorable moments together while I have been an adult. Our relationship turned into a trusted friendship and you became an advisor and counselor to Gary and me as we embarked upon our own adventures as parents. It has meant so much to me that Gary would trust you with all his questions on religion and indeed any topic at all. And the children loved you so much. One of my most favorite memories ever, is of Spencer hanging around you all day hoping for a sip of your root beer. Grandad Alan is a person who was cherished. It was truly a treat for the children to know that you and Grandma Shirley would be visiting soon.

I often reflect on how it was that you always won when the four of us sat down to play hearts. Isn’t it a game of chance? Whether it is or not, you always defied the odds and chuckled heartily over the losers, often me and Mum. I wonder what you are excelling at now? I’m sure it’s everything you do. You know, it seems to me as your daughter who obviously thinks you can do no wrong, that there wasn’t one thing you couldn’t have done had you wanted to. One of your talents which I believe has more value than even the artist in you was your ability to love others and make them feel important. One Sunday, during the time I was in England for Rachel’s wedding, you were giving a talk in church. You were the last one to speak, and when you got up, you wove effortlessly into your talk some of the points made by the previous speakers and mentioned them by name. Who doesn’t want to feel like their remarks have been taken note of and appreciated? I told you how great I thought it was. I hope you always knew how much I respected you and looked up to you.
Since you left us, I have reflected on our last holiday together to Sevierville, Tennessee. It has taken on a whole new significance in my mind. I wish I had not been so full of my own troubles and cares of the day. Instead of sitting on the porch of the cabin and just enjoying your company I was stressing about things that have of course worked out. And that’s what you told me anyway. I treasure the memory of walking down the street in Gatlinburg with your arm through mine. You seemed frail during that last visit and I suppose I tried not to dwell on it. I had such high hopes that the operation would strengthen you somehow and maybe you could retire that walking stick. I remember what a pain it was that you left your walking stick at the house when we drove to Tennessee. But now I am glad because I have the two replacements you bought in my closet. They come out when we go hiking with the children and we talk about you and feel you near.

It’s so hard not to feel bitter at times. It seems so unfair that you had to leave us so soon. My children are only 7, 5, and 3. How long will it be before they cannot remember their interactions with you and a photograph is the only reminder they will have? Do I not need my father? I am only 29 and have much of my life to live. I will need your wisdom so much more in the coming years and you will not be there to share it with me. Where is the mercy of our Heavenly Father? Mum is now alone and the mission you had planned to serve together will be undertaken without you. The pain I feel is magnified by the worse pain I know Mum is feeling. But then I was sitting with Mum over Christmas and looking at the mountains. I had a moment of clarity. Heavenly Father’s mercy has been for you and you have needed it so much more than any of us left behind.

Your health problems over the years were sometimes so awful. I knew when I had to cut your fingernails for you, because you had so little feeling left in your hands, it wasn’t much fun for you even though I was more than happy to do it. There’s only so much physical pain a person can experience and you Dad had so much more than your fair share. You endured it without complaining. I’m ashamed to admit it but it often frustrated me how slow you walked or what you couldn’t do with the rest of us. I remember wanting you to come on a roller coaster with us at Alton Towers when I was a kid. You did it but suffered afterwards. In Tennessee last summer, I’ll never forget how you needed to stop and rest after only walking 100 yards or so. The operation was going to have to work spectacularly well or the future for you would have been uncertain and not a little bit scary. Instead our Heavenly Father welcomed you into his rest. Are you now walking tall? I can see you loving others somewhere out there and whilst I’d much prefer you to be here with us, perhaps you are needed and are happy in the work that you are doing. I do know that you suffer no more pain and who am I to wish you here again in your body that just seemed to let you down.

But I miss you so much. Even six months after you left, I still cannot think about you without the tears blurring my vision and an ache in my chest. I have wanted to write this for such a long time but have been almost dreading it. It’s easier for me to avoid pain and that is what I have been doing. I long for the day when I can think about you and talk about you without feeling so much pain. That day has to come I just don’t know when it will.

As I said before I hope that you always knew how much I love you and how I am so grateful that you are my Dad. You inspire me to live my life to a higher standard and to love others unconditionally. When I saw how many people came to honor you at your funeral, I was filled with pride for the person you were as well as an intense wish to be like you.

Once upon a time you said you wanted to write a novel. That’s always been one of my own ambitions. If I ever finish my book, I will dedicate it to you for you inspired me, not just with your own creativity but with the way you lived your life.

I can’t wait for the day when I will see you and put my arms around you once again. It’s this knowledge that makes me truly happy. How could I not live my life with joy having had you in my life, even if it was only for 28 short years?

Until we meet again, I love you Dad with all my heart.

Sarah