Dear Dad (2026)

Dear Dad,

I'm struggling a little with what to tell you this year. A lot has happened since you died in 2015. This is the first time since I began writing you these letters that I feel like the context has shifted so far from what you knew that maybe situations both personal and political are harder to convey to the person I remember as my dad.

Or maybe not. Your grasp of history was more profound than mine. You would likely draw parallels to moments in time that I hadn't considered or was unaware of. Your takes on the world were often surprising. I miss hearing them.

And maybe personal ties remain relatable regardless of gaps in time. Although at this point Quinn has lived longer with your absence than she had with you in life. There is a big difference between where she was at 8 and where she is today at 19. I'm sorry you missed it.

Quinn is doing great, by the way. She enjoyed her freshman year at UW La Crosse. She's taking a wide variety of classes, and she doesn't want to declare a major until the last possible moment because she wants to learn everything. What I wouldn't give to watch you and Quinn have conversations about language! The two of us learn something new or odd with every game of Boggle (I think the latest thing she was surprised by was to find the expression is "beck and call" rather than "beckon call") and she delights in dialects and word origins and nuances of different languages. She would happily let you teach her French. She's so sweet, Dad. I think at college she's less quiet, which is great. I love having her home for summer. She bakes. She bikes with me to the farmers market on Saturdays. She made a spreadsheet of all our Mold-A-Rama acquisitions. It will be hard to let her go again in the fall.

It's easy to picture how much you would have enjoyed trips to La Crosse where you could have visited with Barrett's family, watched him teach, and gone around with Quinn to her classes. You were always so happy on any college campus, one with so much family to share it with would have been a real treat.

Which reminds me, Ellora graduated this spring! Mom, Barrett, and Rivyn got to fly out to California, where plane delays meant they missed the actual ceremony, but they had a great time with Arno and his family in San Francisco. You'd be so impressed with Ellora. You should have had more time with all your grandchildren. They all remind me of you in different ways. Ellora, Quinn, and Rivyn in their academic talents and love of books, Aden with her sensitivity and enthusiasm, Mona with her art and unpredictability.... You would see yourself reflected in all of them.

We're doing a big renovation project on the house. Remember the weird little "nook" room we used to put you in on visits? The one that was really too small to be a bedroom and too big to be a closet? It's now going to be a bathroom with a shower I can walk into. The powder room will be nicer. The family room will have built-in bookcases. My old home shop will be our new bedroom. That side exit hallway with stairs that we used for storage is now all level and will be a closet at one end and a laundry space at the other. The goal is for me and Ian to live on a single level. I watched too many years on and off of you being in a hospital bed in a house that was nothing but stairs to not want to get ahead of that in our own home. If Mom ever needs a place to recover from something, she should be able to get around easily here when the renovation is complete. (Ian and I can always go back upstairs to our room which we'll set up as a proper guestroom.) I love this house. I'm glad we're able to make it functional for the long term. I wish you could see it now! We got rid of the lawn in favor of a garden of things that don't need tending beyond the landscaper stopping by in the spring.

The most expensive surprise with the renovation was having to replace the flat roof that is the terrace outside Aden's bedroom. It's apparently been leaking rain into the walls for years, so it's good we caught it now before it ruined fresh drywall. The terrace door had to be replaced and the siding on the outer wall removed, and as a result Aden has been living at the violin store building so far this summer. We originally told her it would only be a couple of weeks, but about a month in, and with roofing delays, she may wind up in that apartment the whole break at this point. We'll see. I think it's nice she's across the hall from her sister, and she's planted tomatoes in the backyard. She's mostly situated in the bedroom of the second apartment, and my assistant is up from Mexico using the main rooms as a workspace. (They share the bathroom and kitchen.) It's certainly convenient to have a place for Aden to go despite the upheaval at the house, but it's weird not having her at home. 

Aden has probably one more year left of school. The ADHD issues make it hard for her to finish things, so with luck the coach we hired (who specializes in helping ADHD kids get through school) will help get her over the finish line to graduation. When she expresses embarrassment or concern over how long it's taking her to be done with college, I remind her that she's not even close to how many years you were in school (until the professor or counselor at Wayne State suggested you "stop it"). As long as she's not accruing debt and she enjoys learning, it's fine. She is ready to move on to the next stage, though, which is good.

Aden has a pet marine crab, and a collection of hissing roaches that she dotes on. (I'm sure she's tired of my describing how you felt compelled to feed Barrett's hissing roaches "wet bread" when he left them in your care for a time, but it still makes me laugh.) She wants a snake. Personally, I think what she needs is a dog. She needs to figure out where she'll settle after school before she can take that kind of leap. Aden is still friendly and kind and creative as ever.

I don't see Mona as much as I'd like, despite her living directly above the violin store. I don't know what her current plans are, but I do know she has people to support her whatever path she chooses. When I needed her help getting to Mom when John died she was amazing, and she's still plans to come with Mom and me to Italy in the fall for the latest MMO concert travels. (I like the idea of seeing Cremona in Cremona. It reminds me of when we got to see Arno by the Arno.) Mona's the one child I don't know how to help because she doesn't want any, but I appreciate every dog walk or stroll to the farmers market she accompanies me on. When Mona moved into the Airbnb a few years back, she didn't bother to change any of the art hung there, even though I offered to take any of it away and replace it with whatever she wanted. But she does have a yellow bird you drew in a frame by where she sews. I'm sorry you didn't get to draw her more birds. 

Ian's doing well. He's doing a lot of volunteer work for a passenger rail group, and he still does his moderating work for Ubuntu Discourse. I like that he gets out and meets with people about issues he's interested in. You didn't really socialize outside of anything Mom put together, did you? You were so content at home with just her, I feel like back in the pandemic years you wouldn't have noticed a difference. I love that Ian and I run the store together and enjoy each other's company, but I'm glad we each also have our own things. I'm happy he has people to talk about passenger rail with, and I'm equally glad it doesn't have to be me. (Just like he doesn't have to come along with me to horror movies. Love doesn't have to extend that far.)

One of the people Ian's been able to talk about trains with recently is Rivyn! It's so sweet to watch their conversations. Ian even took Rivyn out on The Hop on his last visit to Milwaukee. Ian's a good uncle, as well as a good dad and husband. Tomorrow will be our 29th wedding anniversary, and you can rest assured all is still well. We have a very nice life.

Work is good and always busy. I'm making a violin for Mom to decorate as a collaboration. I'm frustrated how behind I am on my current builds, but there's always so much to do. I'm so busy that I haven't even looked at the edits I got back on my book before Christmas. The violin work has to come first, and there have been no breaks. My hope is when these violins are done I can focus on writing for a while.

We lost both Uncle Joe and Uncle John since I last wrote to you. It's been really hard on Mom in particular. The list of people she misses is too long.

I thought I was at a measured peace with the family schism that kept us from Uncle Joe all these years, but after Uncle John's funeral I'm struggling again. Watching all my kids mourn so deeply by John's casket made me realize anew how unfair it was to not let them know Joe. When we were all at your bedside almost eleven years ago, and I told the kids Joe would be stopping by, they said, "Who is Joe?" That's so wrong. I hate that he was kept from them.

At John's funeral there was a poem declaring "death is nothing," and that we should think of the dead as being just around the corner. I can sort of do that when I think of John because the idea that he's gone is still somewhat unreal in my mind. I didn't get to see John regularly enough that absence was part of the relationship, so it's hard to feel he's not still out there. With Grandma I can think of her as just around the corner when I'm at the cottage. I consider any changes we make there in terms of what she would like. I can't really do that with you, Dad. Your absence is too huge. I know you're not around the corner because you would have walked around it to give me a hug by now.

I miss you, Dad. Happy Father's Day. I'm going to go off and live my life now. I wish you could see it.

Love, Kory