Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I leaned back against the counter while Bree took out plates, forks, and napkins. Staring at the envelope in my hand, I grappled with conflicting emotions. “You saw him today?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take the kids?”
She nodded. “We all went.”
“How was it?”
“Okay, I guess. He can’t get out of bed anymore, so we just visited for a little bit in his room.”
“That sounds depressing.”
She shrugged. “My kids are so small, they don’t know anything. Justin said hello and went back to the living room. He mostly sat with Gloria and the kids out there while I talked to Dad.”
“What does he say?”
“He actually did more talking today. He told me about the way he grew up, his abusive father, his mother’s nervous breakdowns. It was sad, but it gave me a lot of insight into him.” She opened the fridge. “Want a beer?”
“No, thanks.”
She took one out for herself and popped the cap off. “I don’t think he has too much more time.”
“Months? Weeks?”
“I didn’t ask.” She tipped up her beer. “So tonight was the wedding, right?”
“Yeah. I have to pick up the girls from the reception in a few hours. We’re meeting Winnie in the morning at eight.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Winnie’s in town?”
I nodded. “She had a work event at Cloverleigh Farms tonight and she’s flying out tomorrow.”
“Have you seen her yet?”
“Just briefly on the porch yesterday.” I grimaced. “I didn’t handle it too well.”
She smiled. “What did you do, ask her to spend the night?”
“No,” I said, although that’s exactly what I’d had in mind. “I just asked if I could see her later, because she was in a hurry. But she said no.”
My sister shrugged. “You can’t blame her, Dex. If you want her back, you have to make it clear something has changed.”
“I know,” I said, tapping the letter against the palm of my hand. “I’m thinking about it.”
Although I didn’t have much appetite, I ate some dinner with Bree and Justin and headed home around eight.
When I got there, I stared at the envelope on the counter for a solid fifteen minutes before working up the courage to tear it open. I did it less out of curiosity for what he had to say than to prove to myself I could still do hard things.
Unfolding the typed pages, I began to read.
Dear Dexter,
I am sorry this letter isn’t written by hand, but I asked Gloria to type it for me because my writing is too shaky and I want every word to be clear.
I don’t blame you for not coming to see me. If I was in your shoes, I don’t think I would come either. In fact, I was in your shoes, years ago when my own father was dying. He didn’t ask to see me and I didn’t go. I can’t say for sure that I am sorry, but sometimes I wonder what he might have said if I’d seen him then.
I think a lot about what I would say to you if you were here. I know that I was not a good father to you, and I would tell you I was sorry. The words would not be good enough, but I’d mean them. I do mean them.
I would tell you how proud I am of you. You did everything you said you were going to do. A man is only as good as his word, and that means you are the best kind of man.
Bree tells me you are an incredible father and I believe her. I can see that she’s a wonderful mother too, just like your mother was. She used to amaze me with her patience and kindness and generous heart. I see so much of her in your sister, and I know she is in you too.
I regret that I didn’t pass on to you much of anything good. I never knew how to be a good father and now I know I was too scared of failing to try. But if there is still time to pass on one thing I have learned, it would be this:
Never let fear get in the way of being the kind of man you want to be.
When you look back, what will matter most?
Dad
At first I was mad and wanted to ball up the letter and burn it. His regrets weren’t my problem.
But once my temper was in check, I took a few deep breaths and read it through again. And again. And again. Eventually, the anger dissipated and I took a step back, looked a little deeper.
He wasn’t asking forgiveness, he wasn’t begging me to show up, he wasn’t placing any burden on me—he just wanted me to have one thing from him that wasn’t shitty, one piece of advice that might serve me.
And I had to admit, the advice was timely. I was letting fear get in the way of the kind of man I wanted to be.