Dear Dad,

It’s been a while since we talked. I’ve thought about you a lot lately even though it’s been a really long time since I’ve been able to pick up the phone and call you. Like 29 years. And I’ll be honest, I really don’t remember what I said the last time I heard your voice. It probably wasn’t anything significant. Chances are I was probably rushed, and a bit of a jackass. I used to beat myself up at times wondering if I said “I love you” before we hung up. I was 16, a man in my own mind, unbreakable, unbeatable. I knew how to figure out the world and didn’t need help. Not your help, not from anyone.

You died in August of 1988, right before the start of my senior year of high school. That kinda sucked a lot, if we’re being honest with each other. It was desensitizing at first. Then, after the funeral, it was just settling into a new reality. I really did have to be my own man. I had family; I’ve always had a tremendous, and large, family who supports me. We never had much in the way of money before you died, but we had love and a roof over our head and found ways to have fun. But once you were gone, it was time that I had to be my own man.

Then, something weird happened. I left the Park.

I don’t recall thinking that I needed to leave. But I don’t recall thinking there was any good reason for me to stay there either. That’s not a knock on the Park itself. It’s that there’s this whole big ol’ world out there. A place that for some reason I wanted to see. And the first step was heading off to college.

Back in the day, a 2-hour trip down Highway 2, to I-88 and into Rock Island, Illinois, was a helluva long ways to head off the known track. The first time I went there, I felt like I was exploring new worlds like Lewis & Clark. In reality, I’m guessing the student hosts who were assigned to me and Rich that visitor’s weekend — and who ended up fishing us out of the pool of liquor we slept in that night — thought we were more like a drunk version of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

There’s so much out there, and it was exciting. It was like having your birthday everyday. Something new and fun and shiny. Go see this, experience that, eat those, drink all of everything and then some more. It never ended because, you see, the world doesn’t seem to end. There are so many little places, the nooks and crannies of life and the world that makes it so vibrant. And it has an elusive ending. It never, ever stops. The world keeps going, even if you don’t want it to.

But I’ve never stopped looking for the end. Since you left this world, Dad, I’ve been on a journey. I’m blessed to have a home base to go back to, loving friends and family to fill that heartache when hard times creep up through the back gate. I’ve lived in seven states now and myriad of apartments and houses. And a not shabby number of couches in other people’s homes slept on along the way, too.

I was back home this past weekend and I have to say, while I will never live there again, it’s not because of the people. The people are what keep bringing me back. I saw a lot of old dear friends for good reasons — another year of our fantasy football draft, and another Tough Mudder — and saw friends and family for a shitty reason as well — saying a final goodbye to a dear, dear friend.

I thought of you Saturday in that church. I always do when I go to funerals. Yours wasn’t the first funeral I went to, but it was the first death that shook me. With time, it’s gotten easier, unfortunately. Now, I can grin-and-bear it enough to get through.

Saturday was tough though.

That new dude you have up there with you now, he really left a mark on people. Midwest, East Coast, West Coast. Didn’t matter, they were lining up on social media and at the memorials to be there for him one more time. I know they say they wanted to pay their respects, but I bet 100 percent of the people there secretly hoped he’d jump out of the back, yell “Who da fuq actually believed this was real?”, and then give them each a big bear hug he was so known for.

He’s a big jerk for not playing out that joke.

When I was there at the church, I ran into old friends I haven’t seen in years. For some, it’s been decades. Ahead of time, I wondered what it’d be like seeing them, and it was what I expected. A blessing. I know I’m a lucky bastard when I see who I’m surrounded by, not just every day but when the real dirty shit hits the fan. My tribe is something else and that’s why I want you to take good care of Dwin for me, Dad. He’s one of them, and now he’s up there running around, making mischief somewhere and could probably use another good hand to point him in the right direction. Considering I heard he was at the center — or more likely, the whole center himself — of the mischief making during confirmation classes back in the day at that very church we were in Saturday, he probably needs as much help as he can get.

So, anyway, Dad, I hope things are going well up there. You’ve been there for nearly two-thirds of my life now and I just wanted to give you an update. I’m assuming they taught you how to use the Internet up there so you can read this since it wasn’t in wide use until almost a decade after you left us.

Today is my 46th birthday, and while I’m sad you’re missing it again, I just wanted to say I think I’m doing this life alright. I have a wonderful, beautiful, talented wife who in no capacity do I deserve, and together we have some real idiot animals who we actually love despite being real idiots. I have been luckier than anyone I know in that I’ve had jobs that I have absolutely loved in life. And they gave me the chance to travel a lot of the world, much farther than I ever thought I’d go. I’ve experienced the highs and lows of life so much that I really wouldn’t change a single thing. It’s weird because growing up, I never expected to live past age 30. I don’t know why, but it just never registered that I’d live that long. I sure as hell never expected to be living to this age and needing goddamn reading glasses. Or drinking red wine. Or going to events at the bar to try to make contacts for work instead of getting tanked. There’s no road map for this life I have, but I think I’ve navigated it alright so far.

Before I go, I have to bring up something. You’re starting to get a bit of a crowd around you from my group down here. I know it’s just part of life, but I can still think it’s horseshit that you get to see them and I don’t. So anyway, grab Tony to help you show Dwin around. And say hi to Dan Bontjes for me, and all the parents and siblings our group has sent your way recently. I’m guessing you’ve been a good welcoming party so far, but I’m going to be honest here as I hope we don’t have to put you to work again any time soon.

Take care, Dad. I love you and miss you.

Love,

JT

P.S. If, by any chance, Dwin isn’t actually “up there” with you, could you send me some sort of a sign? Anything really. Lightning, a dream, whatever. I’d just like to know ahead of time because where ever the fuck he is, I know I’ll surely end up some day and would like to be prepared if it’s a bit more steamy than I am hoping for. K, thanks, bye.