Please Deliver To My Father In Heaven

Dad,

I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner. I thought I should have something interesting to say or accomplished a big life goal…but I’ve only recently realized that showing up or reaching out is the entire point – not so much what you say.

So what’s happened these past five years? I suppose the most exciting thing is that I’ve traveled to twenty-five countries in the past eleven months. Don’t worry, I wasn’t alone (well, most of the time). I was accepted into Remote Year, a program comprised of seventy-five(ish) digital nomads who live and travel together for a year. We’re down to forty-four this final month but every single person is incredibly talented, warm, funny, and a blast to hang out with.

It wasn’t easy though. Or a vacation. At all. (I don’t think I’ve even slept in the same bed for more than a week in twelve months.) So don’t worry, I didn’t waste my time and money. This year gave me an education that no schooling could and I’m returning home a global citizen with an open mind.

I wasn’t running away from something. Everyone seems to ask that. Before that, I actually had a really cool job as a Community Director at yelp.com. Like super cool. I can’t believe you weren’t alive for that (even that life seems so long ago). I found my calling there. Community is key for my happiness it seems.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and chastise myself for leaving such a fun job to travel the world. But I try to think of what you would tell me – that was the time to do it – before getting married and having kids.

And I wish you could meet my kids. Ha, I wish I could meet my kids. For so long I told myself that I didn’t want them and that there were more important (i.e. interesting) things in the world…but if there’s anything this year of seeing the world has shown me, it’s that family is everything.

And I don’t have a family. I have mom and Nana – and they’re the most lovely, giving, strong role models for what a matriarch should be, as you know. But they won’t live forever and I want my own family (a big one) and I’m scared that won’t happen – I’m 32.

I’m 32. When did that happen? This entire time I’ve been waiting for my life to start…oblivious to the fact that it’s already started.

Don’t worry, I am happy. And I do have a good life with wonderful friends who show up for me on a daily basis.

I am so sorry that I didn’t appreciate how you made everything better when you were alive. I took you being the best father in the world for granted because I didn’t know any other life. I didn’t see how you fixed every little problem. I didn’t even have a real problem until you died.

And I’m sorry we don’t get to have the friendship mom and I have as adults. You won’t get to walk me down the aisle or meet my husband (…if that ever happens 🙄) or go on family vacations. I can’t come to you for guidance for my new business (I know you would have a million insights) or spend weekends at the lake with you and the pups (who miss you…you’re still their favorite).

You were the cure-all. And sometimes I struggle to find my footing in a world without you.

I like to think that you already knew all of this…that you’re watching over me every day…but I don’t know how much of that is wishful thinking or simply what faith is.

I love you. I will always be your little girl even when I’m old and gray. And I promise to write more…though I miss you more than words can express.

Love,

Joelle

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One thought on “Please Deliver To My Father In Heaven

  1. Excellent letter to your dad, Joelle and I’m sure he’s watching over you every day.
    Tomorrow marks six years for losing my dad. He was my go-to for everything (from financial advice to why is my car making that sound?) I can’t imagine what he thought when he moved me here in 1997 for a job and left, knowing I did not know a soul in Memphis. I hope he’s proud of who I am and life that Matt and I have together, even though he’d chuckle about our constant revolving door of foster puppies and the general chaos on a daily basis. We miss him and I still think I will always be his “kiddo” no matter how old I get.

    Like

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