I have so little of my father but memories that were not always happy. But of the few things I have, I treasure this letter that he wrote one morning before going to work.
On that day I was to go on a girl scout camping trip. The night before I had collected several items that we were assigned to bring - primarily eating utensils. I had gathered these items on the kitchen table to pack with my other things in the morning. Before dawn on that day, my dad took the time before leaving for work to write me this letter - to tease me about bringing these things from home and to remind me to bring them back. But he also expressed heart felt affection for me and wanted me to have a great camping trip.
My dad was not a letter writer. He was not a reader, or a great family man, or one to have hobbies, or even many friends. He worked and that was pretty much all he did.
This 51 year old letter remains a treasured piece of paper. These were words he wrote only to me, on a morning when he was his normal self and he was a loving father.
I have so little of his beyond unhappy memories, but in these 2 yellowing sheets of paper ... I have much.