sadness ever

enveloped your heart

though drown it

you verily tried

regardless

you were

good, kind

caring, loving -

an instinct

the latter

for you

experienced it

never

before

giving your

heart

to be

broken

over

and

over

till gaining

the unconditional love

of a daughter;

when you passed

and your wife gave me

the album

of pictures

you'd lovingly saved,

tucked inside -

how i cried -

were

myriad birthday

and

Father's Day cards

I'd sent

that you

kept them

meant,

I hope,

you knew

you were loved

even if

it wasn't

enough

to keep you

from drowning

your sorrows

till neither

love

nor sadness

mattered.

Now 30 years

gone,

I wish

I'd had

more years

to know you

better

to love you

longer.

I

miss

you.

For all the

bewilderment

and wonder

you reflect

back to our

Beloved Boy

as the

Son

at the

center

of your

sense

of I

Handprints

entwined

with

the Heart

and the Music

of your Life

in me...

the awe

and disbelief

at the incredible

Blessing of this

shining fragment

of Us

that stands

with arms

outstretched

and whispers

fiercely

eyes clamped shut

mouth puckered up,

"I Love You Papa!"

For Papa Bunny Villaire

Rémy & I love you so very very much!!

You stood tall on the hill

Branches swaying in the wind

Watching me as I turned from a seed into a sprout

From a sprout to a seedling

From a seedling into a sapling.

As a sapling I was tall and lanky

Stealing your sunlight

And yet you stood there and watched

Let me be

You did not complain.

Then I turned into a tree

And your branches tipped to me.

You stood by my side

Even as the pine bug took you.

You did not get to watch

As a seed took flight from my branches

As it landed and rooted

And started sprouting.

Your roots are still there and will forever remain.

Thank you.

I picture the neck,

with collar and tie,

the squared shoulders

in proud carriage,

conviction and

courage...

The sparks

in Artic

eyes...

He knew me

not just as

a child;

and loved me

like no

other

Kin,

because

only I could

stand his

Criticisms,

without anger.

Yes, i cried;

and what

Man

can handle

hot water

between his

hands..?!

...it always

comes down

to the facts:

He was a

(com)passionate

one...

who kept

his i-love-you-s

in notebooks

of plans.

On every page

the names

of Us...

carved

with

sharpness

of tongue

to remind,

only how!

We should

know-better,

by Now...

wrapped up

in a hug.

In other words,

in dimmed hopes

and espressos,

in Dreams...

night walks,

and cigarette

smoke,

that he

blew...

in rings

as halos

for our

Magic...

of Being.

Dear Father challenge @EvolucijaSvesti

06.18.2023

Thanks for the truth

Thanks for the alcoholism

Thanks for the breakdown

Thanks for not much

Thank you for everything

David Burdett

6/18/2023

You have a stern shell

But those close to you can always tell

That you have a huge heart

Some would even call you a piece of art

Dear dad,

Happy fathers day! I know we haven't been on the same page lately, but I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You took my siblings and I in. You dealt with our breakdowns and screams of pain with love and love only. Love was a foreign concept for us then, but you gained our trust and opened our hearts. You witnessed my struggles firsthand, and you guided me on how to cope with them. I know you will never cease to love me, regardless of how many times we fight, so I need you to know that it's mutual. I will love you regardless of what is thrown at us. Because dad, you are worth it. My family, is worth it.

Love,

Kendall

I want to thank you for being such an amazing father to me. You lost your own Father when you were just 2. You were blessed with a strong father figure in your maternal grandfather. He would have been proud of all you accomplished.

You were always so loving with me. You truly spoiled me rotten. I know being the youngest or as y'all affectionally called me "the happy surprise" isn't such a bad gig. We had a close relationship that I was truly grateful for - I hope you know growing up with you as my Dad was pretty amazing.

Playing recess on your former high school football field was awesome...after listening to stories of you being the star High School QB - I was so proud running around on that same ground. You left High School and joined the Army. After serving in WW2 - "The Big One", you worked so hard in the oilfields under that hot Texas sun where you started out as a roustabout....which meant low entry and hard work. You worked your way up from that position to "Company man" which translated to obtaining new clients and checking in with existing clients. I love that over a few cold ones that you decided instead of making money for someone else you could do it for yourself.

I remember you worked so hard to establish an oil field trucking, contracting and sandblasting company. I had no clue what sandblasting was....when employees couldn't handle the heat and would pass out doing the work in a hot water tower or grain tower you would go in and do it yourself. I can remember how drained you were. How on earth did you do that in that crazy heat? You worked very hard and became very successful and well known for what you did, but what you did wasn't who you were....you were a good person. You were so hilarious. You had the best sense of humor....you made people laugh and feel good. I know you had such a generous nature if you heard of someone in need you made sure it was taken care of....instead of just advancing a salary to someone who was struggling you lent a helping hand. You knew - you had been there. People respected you....your reputation of fairness and being someone decent to work for was well known and that just says a lot about your character.

I want to thank you for instilling within me a love for our Texas and respecting our precious land and all that inhabited it. You taught me how to hunt and fish responsibly. You taught me how to garden, which was such a gift...there's nothing like growing your own vegetables. Just so many things you blessed me with by being you.

I want to thank you for loving me through both my good and poor choices. You loved me unwaveringly. I am so sorry if I ever caused you a moment of pain. You taught me so much. Daddy, I miss you and I love you.

I think you were proudest of me when you saw me boxing.

I remember that day pretty clearly. You showed up to watch, not saying a word. I sparred with a guy about my size, but a little shorter. We were a good match up, honestly.

He slammed me with an uppercut that rocketed through my guard and sent me back a step. A smaller guy would likely have been knocked off his feet.

It was exhilarating; the crowd gasped.

I couldn't help but laugh, it was the most fun I'd had with my clothes on all week. I was genuinely elated.

I think it worried the kid that I laughed when he punched the shit out of me.

I think that's what made you proud.

When the round ended, we were both bleeding and gasping for air. In the end, it was declared a draw, if it had been an actual match and not a spar. It didn't really matter who won, what mattered was that we were learning an important skill.

Those formative afternoons with those other young men and that generous coach who invited us to his back yard, those were the building blocks of a career for me. No, I didn't become a professional fighter, but I became a professional unafraid to fight.

You and I both built careers around that philosophy.

When I was just a little kid, you used to instruct defensive tactics at the same academy I attended the year you died.

So many of my instructors asked how you were doing. You hadn't worn the uniform in over twenty years, but they knew my last name.

"He's well, I assume," I said with good humor, waiting for their inevitable follow up question. "He died back in February, so I hope everything turned out in his favor after that setback."

A couple of them thought it was the funniest shit they'd heard, but more than one looked at me like I had three heads.

I think you were proudest of me when you saw me boxing, but I like to think that maybe you'd have been proud to see me build a career teaching where you once taught.

Dear father of mine,

This is a letter you will never receive. I don't plan to plan it, I'll just let things flow which means there will be some salt with the sugar, of course. You don't need to see that part.

You and I have had a disconnect between us for many years, haven't we? I suppose it was bound to happen. Not very good with vulnerability, practically nothing in common, a bit self-isolating. I'd say not having you be too present in my life made me lose a lot but well, I only know who I've grown to become as I am now.

I know you tried, though. I know you try. I don't know you well, sir but I know that the only reason you pushed me so hard was a desperation to see me succeed. I know you grew up in the village in a time when you had to fight for your knowledge, you tell me how you had to hawk with pride in your eyes. You've done so much in your life. Began and ran a successful law firm for so many years, married, had us...

The quintessential family man. It's through the sweat of you and my mother that my siblings and I have the space to live without the weight of searching for money as you did in your youth hanging over our heads quite yet. But being a provider, as necessary as it may be, caused this chasm between us. One I thought would fill if I was finally good enough for you to garner your praise, your fleeting flutters of affection. I was terrified of you but I wanted you to love me, I really did.

And so, it began. The academic version of rat race. Try to be the best, as your father was. You even turned my twin and I against each other... Do you remember that? I don't think you knew but it taught us to hate each other for some time, that giant wedge of competition you drove between us. Not that it matters anymore. We both grew up and learnt certain things weren't as important as we thought they were.

I suppose you gave me more attention when I was little enough to be interesting and the slightly older me of then wanted some of it back. I don't know. All I know is that desire to please enough to be loved, although you didn't mean to help such a lesson weasel its way into my head, is still there today. And you aren't very good at encouraging it to end, either. You like when we do things to please you. I suppose everybody does. I only wish you had shown me that I deserved attention even when it wasn't because of a report card.

But I'm older now. We both are. You aren't as self-isolating or as distant or as suddenly aggressive. You're... Different and yet the same. I suppose that comes with growing up? And you're my father. I don't blame you for any piece of who I've been and am, anymore. I chose every step I've ever taken for my sake and safety. You not loving me enough wasn't the root of all my problems these past years.

It was me not knowing how to love myself. I was never really taught so I had to learn, you see. Build myself up brick by brick. In a way, I'm coming into my own. I don't think I could ever be as confident as you or mama but... I'm growing, still. You've had thrice my time of experience to ebb and flow and change.

Daddy... Try to be kind. I know you're trying harder now but... Don't stop getting better at it. Your wife never deserved those jagged sides of you. And neither do any of your children. I've learnt not to miss you when you're not around. But I can tell you what parts of you I miss the most when I haven't witnessed them for long enough.

Your laugh. That terrifying explosion of yours that appears at the most sudden moments. I love it so much. And your excitement when you watch football. It's ridiculous to me, the way you clap over a man attempting to kick a ball into a limited space. But it's amusing hearing you clap for people who don't hear you. I suppose middle-aged men deserve to fanboy, too. Your terrible (probably on purpose) singing, your love for garri, the way you seem to glow when you're with friends or "discussing" politics, despite your constant adamance that you are right and can never be wrong.

Shit. I got that from you too, didn't I?

It's weird, the way you are now. You started trying some years back but I'm still not used to it. The attempts to establish reconnect when there was once an empty, grey space. The little, sudden words of genuine kindness that confuse the hell out of me. Playing the provider role, the only one you really know how to play and buying the family food on every single special occasion haha.

I'm trying, too. I hug you once in a while. I never used to do that but hey, life is "short", right? I remember the day I called you on the phone, a breakdown too strong to handle alone for once. You were the last person I chose to call, no one else picked up but with all your panicking and trying to call my mother to deal with my panicking in your stead, it all made me laugh. The ridiculousness of everything. So thank you for that, you awkward awkward weirdo.

My grudge with you died the moment I realised my choices were mine regardless of your influence. Always my own. But even in the painful times, I know I have a fondness for you. I might hang out with you the least but family you are still and I'll never not remember you. Or feel some sort of affection for you, no matter what goes down between us in the future. Here's to many more fights and awkward moments to come.

Okay. That's that. Slow down with work and take care of yourself, please. You're the overachieving type, a trait I tried to copy for so long... Don't push yourself too hard. Stay a while with me before it's time to rest, alright? And I hope you're happy and proud of all you've done with your life. Because I'm happy for and proud of you, pop. Have a good evening.