In one of Louis L’Amour’s Books, he writes, “Associate with the noblest people you can find; read the best books; live with the mighty, but learn to be happy alone. Rely upon your own energies and so not wait for, or depend on other people.”
It’s ironic that one of my father’s favorite authors would sum up how I’ve lived my life. Often times, I’ve looked to surround myself with people stronger, richer, more secure and more powerful than myself, but when the friendships fail or fade away, I have always been happy alone. Like my grandparents, I have taken what life has thrown in the path and risen to the occasion. The difference is that they and my parents have had someone to walk with them every step of the way for a very long time. Perhaps I’ll find someone to impress with a stuffed bear or just casually sit and eat pints of ice cream or someone who’ll see their soul reflected back in my eyes. But even if I don’t, my father, and his parents before him, have shown me that all of that exists.
The irony of this letter writing journey has not been lost on me. My father’s correspondence has not only given me an insight into the man he was and is, but also brought me closer to the person I’ve for so long held at a distance. This little big man who could make me tremble with fear and who I’ve long striven to please has become, at last, a fully realized person. It’s never too late to learn lessons and discovery can happen at any point in life. But most of all, it is never too late to say thank you. The love in the house I grew up in is not just within its walls and floorboards; it’s in the people who helped make it a home. And when I look at it from the outside, I don’t just see a house – I see all of them.
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| Me, the little big man and the object of our affection without the white bear. |
A Thanksgiving prayer I wrote last year: God bless this house and all its inhabitants at home and away and those family members with us in spirit. Amen.
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