Dear Dad,

I dialed your number this morning and you didn’t answer. I’ve checked my voicemails and no messages from you. I miss you. Since I can’t talk to you like usual right now I’m writing you this letter to read when you return. I’ve been reminiscing about some good times we shared and the ways you expressed your love for me. 


Dad, I remember when I was a little girl we often walked to 161^st and you bought me cherry icees from the Pizza Shop. Those were my favorite. I was in Harlem the other day and ate one, thinking of you.

I remember you often taking me and my friends to Radio City Music Hall to see Disney on Ice or Madison Square Garden to the Circus. You bought us so many treats and souvenirs.

I remember when I was younger you took me and my friends strawberry picking in Connecticut every year. We always ate more than we picked. We had such a good time.

I remember you picking me and my friends up from Parkway Elementary School and driving us to both Eric and Jerry’s basketball games. You were so excited anytime Jerry and Eric held the ball or scored a point. The pride you had for them was written all over your face.

I remember you taking me with you to work at Metropolitan Hospital and Beth Israel Medical Center on the weekends or during the summer. You introduced me to anyone that crossed your path, even the people who cleaned the building. You knew everyone and made sure they knew me. You showed me off as your prize possession, introducing me as your baby.

When I got my learner’s permit I remember you teaching me how to drive. I knew if I could drive that LTD Crown Victoria I could drive anything. I can still hear your great words of advice, “When driving on the road, you have to drive for others as well as yourself.”   

I remember you driving that LTD Crown Victoria to take us on family summer trips down south. Again, you showed me off to all the relatives, exclaiming that I was your baby. I looked at a picture the other day where I was sitting in your lap and you were so happy to hold me.

Growing up I remember you always going into the money can, voluntarily giving me cash, just to have extra in my pocket. You gave money so generously. And not just to your children, but to several of your relatives and friends. Dad, I recently learned that in your younger days you put a few relatives through school, paying for their college education. I also learned that you took time off work to provide transportation to and from the hospital for your mother to receive treatments when she was sick. You were always there for me, but I never knew how much you were also there for so many others throughout your entire life.

Dad, I’ve always admired your high level of intelligence. You’re great with numbers and I’m not sure if there are any facts about history that you do not know. Your memory is amazing. It seemed like you didn’t forget anything. I can hear you now telling me, “Go get a pen and paper and write this down.” To this day, I never leave the house without a pen and paper in my purse.

Dad, I remember when I told you I was engaged to a man from Charleston, South Carolina, like you. You were so excited about Douglas. And when you found out he was a Marine, you were elated. I remember you constantly telling me, as well as him, that you were in our corner. You always did support our endeavors, never once discouraging us but always encouraging us to move forward with our desires.

Dad, I remember when you started to get sick and could no longer leave the house. I know how much you missed walking. I believe I got my love of walking from you. Dad you never complained about being sick or about life in general. At the time I didn’t understand how you could be so happy while you were so ill. But now I know it’s because instead of focusing on your ailments, you chose to focus on your ability to see Another Day, Another Sunrise. I get it now. I get it.

Dad, it’s been so great to reminisce on all the wonderful things you have done for me and for others. I know I’ve already thanked you many times, but I just have to say it again, thank you. I know I’ve already told you many times that I love you but I just have to say it again, I love you. And I know I’ve already told you numerous times that I miss you but I just have to tell you again, I miss you.

Dad my intention was for you to read this letter when you returned. But God just spoke to me and said that you’re right next to Him, reading this letter with the biggest smile you’ve ever had on your face. I should have known that’s where you were. I know in Heaven is where you now belong. Your work here is complete. I take great comfort in knowing that you’ll forever be watching over me from up above, cheering me on as you’ve always done. I’ll now say to you what you’ve always said to me, “Enjoy yourself. Be happy. And I’ll always be in your corner.”

Love your baby,
Nicky

Even when I didn't feel pretty, you always told me I was beautiful.

There goes that Bright smile

 Your DD214 form and dog tags were found. You got the military honors that you so deserved.

                                                                    Dad, may you forever Rest in Peace

                                                                               Jerome Bright 

                                                                March 5, 1941 - June 1, 2013