Four years ago, the world lost an amazing man and my siblings and I lost an amazing dad. He taught me so much about life, and did so much to support me. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him; that I don’t think about something I wish I could ask him about.
Sometimes I wish I could ask him about current events, like what his thoughts on the newest Radiohead album are or if he enjoyed Captain America: Civil War. Other times there are questions I wish I had asked him when I had the chance, like what his favourite Glee cover was or who was his favourite superhero.
I wish I could go back and thank him for the lessons I learned through him. He taught me the importance of treating everyone with respect, and that sometimes, you need to ask for help and that’s okay. I want him to know that his numerous charitable deeds inspire me to do what I can for those less fortunate, even when I don’t have a lot myself. Between him, my mom, and my step mom I learned everything I know about parenting; that you can’t say yes all the time but that rewarding good behaviour goes along way to never needing to say no. He also showed me that while there is a time to put on a brave face for the sake of your kids, there’s also a time to be honest. In one of our last conversations he told me that he was scared. I didn’t know how to respond at the time – I had never heard him admit to being frightened by anything before. I wish now I had comforted him, told him that it’s okay to be scared, and that it meant a lot to me that he told me how he felt.
He and I shared a love for music, often playing the “guessing game” in the car on our way from point A to point B. In fact, he’s the one who introduced me to many of my favourite artists, and helped shape my overall taste in music. I don’t think I ever would have listened to bands like Foo Fighters or Collective Soul without his influence, and his love for Matt Good helped me discover an absolute favourite. He took me to my very first concert, Edgefest in 1997, and bought me tickets to see my very first Bryan Adams show in 2000. He knew the importance of music, that the right song could make you laugh or make you cry, and depending on your mood, both were vital to the soul.
I started writing after he died, despite thinking about it for years. I wonder what he’d think of some of the pieces I’m most proud of; how he’d react to me winning that writing contest or what he thinks about my ongoing Last Week Tonight recaps. I wish I could share these things with him.
I’d love to introduce him to my friends and loved one. I know he got along with everyone, but I think he’d really get along with them. I wish I could tell him that his former co-worker’s son and I are now best friends, that we bond over the Wilson sports swag that populated our childhoods. Another friend helped me get psychiatric help when I needed it the most, and I know he’d enjoy meeting her and making her laugh. I wonder what he’d think of my current relationship, if he’d be proud that I moved on from a difficult situation and found love with someone who accepts me, challenges me and encourages me as much as he did.
I wish he could hang out with my son, who has grown into an adorable, amazing little man in the years since his passing. I long to see him interact with my nieces, who are probably the cutest, cleverest little girls since I was one.
More than anything I wish I could tell him how lucky I am that he was my dad.