My dad passed away on May 17, 2020. He didn’t die of COVID but I think he died because of COVID and all the chaos that was building in and around this pandemic. He had been living with COPD for over 30 years. He rarely complained when it was obvious he was suffering. Actually, he was a man of very few words.

As a reflect on my dad, I am ashamed to admit I didn’t really know him. He was always there for us and yet I feel I know so little of who he really was. What did he think about? Dreamed about? What scared him? What brought him joy, besides a nice cold can of beer?

While cleaning out his things when my mom passed just 22 months later, we found his wallet still intact. The moment I opened it, I wish I had asked him the question I was always too afraid to ask him. It was no secret that he always had a picture of my sister in his wallet. He did not have one of me. I never felt that he played favorites or have any animosity towards my sister, I just never understood why he didn’t have one of me.

I wrote this soon after…

Well-worn and made of soft supple leather
A place for a man to keep mementos together

Her picture was the one he had chosen
Always front and center whenever it was open

I once thought it was her over me
A new hope of something I had failed to be

Her hair so light it reminds you of snow
Mine had since lost that innocent glow

Maybe it was her eyes, a beautiful blue
I suppose that my blue was just the wrong hue

The picture changed from a young girl to a grad
My unknown anger morphed into my unspoken sad

As I grew older, I started to think,
Maybe my picture just wasn’t worth the ink

Maybe it was not her over me,
Just that I wasn’t who he wanted me to be

The extent of my anguish, how could he know
When I was too ignorant to let my true feelings show

His love for me, I never did question
Who would I be to demand recognition?

I could speculate for hours, days, weeks, months or even years
But the answer won’t be amongst imagined fears and more tears

We all carry secrets
Some good and some bad
Even inside the souls of the ones we call dad

His wallet was a place where a picture of me
Was plain and simply never to be

The reason is one I’ll never know
For I was too afraid to ask
To terrified to know

I have struggled with this since I was a child. I wish I had closure but that will never be, the universe made that decision for me. I have to find a way to be ok with not knowing and for me, that is one of the hardest things to do ~ letting go.

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