Dear Dad,
I hope your new life is more than you ever imagined, with your soul sharing comfortably with your mother and sister and all other. I've had more dreams about you this year than about anyone else. You've been young and old and in great shape and spirits and also in your final helpless state reaching for assistance. You've mostly been at Clifton Road. With both the front and rear of the house taking turns being renovated. You've doubled or tripled the ceilings height, digging down to the basement and reaching up to the second floor. You've shot off fireworks and shown movies.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning not long ago and looked up the word parasite in the dictionary -- dependence on something else for existence or support without making a useful or adequate return. There has been someone infiltrating my existence that has no right. For too long there has been a darkness in my life that has not belonged. There are no current songwriters scripting my personal woes so I continue with my journal entries that average two hand written pages a day. This year I have filled seven notebooks of writing.
I'm at a new church this year, making friends and feeling good about the support.
Every one of us contributes to the whole, all in our own way. The power of each of us cannot be underestimated. I will never forget, years back, ignoring an approach from a homeless man that I was sitting near in a park, and how my evening was virtually eliminated afterward. Love is weighted down by neglect, ignorance, misguided intentions and greed. I pray to overcome in the year ahead.
With love and respect, Happy Birthday!
Your second son,