I miss you, dad.

It's been about eight months since you killed yourself, and I wish you were here. You and I were finally getting along and appreciating one another in a way I'd never had with you before. I wish you had not put that on pause.

I know you are happy where you are, but I miss you so much and wish we could have spent more time together. I'm sorry I never visited you much. There was so much unspoken between us, and I wasn't sure how to overcome that.

Mom is doing well and has become such an amazing person despite the tragedy. My sister and brother-in-law are having a baby this October, and I wish you could be here to see your first granddaughter. She's going to know all about her wonderful grandpa, but it won't be the same as you loving her.

You ripped our hearts out when you left us, and I am so angry at you. At the same time, I know that you were facing the sort of situation that can break a man, reputation-wise. That sort of thing drives men towards desperate measures.

I wish you had said something. I would not have believed it, because I know you and know you would never have done it. We talked to a lawyer, and he said they would have eventually dismissed the case against you. We would have stood by you, no matter what.

What am I supposed to do this father's day? How do I even go to church when I am just going to be reminded of what I am missing? What am I supposed to tell my niece when she asks me what happened to Grandpa? How do I console my mom when she cries about you and take care of her emotionally like you were supposed to?

I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could spend some time fishing with you, work at the store with you for a day, or follow you around the garden. I wish I could introduce my first dog to you and invite you to my future art show. I wish I could hug you again and have you cut my baked potato for me. I wish I could hear you insist it is father's week, not father's day, and jokingly demand that we do everything you want. I wish I could find you sitting in your favorite chair like nothing happened when I came to visit.

I wish you could have expressed your feelings with your family, so we could have helped you through your depression and PTSD.

I am sorry I held onto my anger towards you over the depression and roommate debacle. I am sorry I avoided visiting you and spending time with you. I am sorry we did not talk more or discuss the past. I am sorry that I never gave you the respect or emotional validation that you needed so badly from me. I am sorry for not showing you the more personal parts of my life or asking about your passions. I am sorry I never tried to really get to know you.

To celebrate your life, I am going to buy your favorite beer and snacks at Wal-Mart and enjoy them like I had stolen them from you (We always did compete for the same snacks while I lived at home.) I am going to use the eye for color you gave me to make something beautiful with my rocks and shells. I am going to sing "The Parting Glass" and "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me while I remember the man you were in life. I am going to wish and wonder about that could have been as everyone around me spends time with their respective fathers.

I love you, daddy. Please wait for me up there. I can't wait to see you when I've completed my time in this life.

Affectionately, your little bird.