It laid amongst a collection of purses and handbags, tucked into the corner of a pocket as if waiting to be read. Folded and crumpled up, with an ink-stained oily softness, it was surprisingly readable, even after all these years.
I was busy unpacking boxes, scurrying in the dusk-turning-to-darkness of yesterday’s Tuesday night; not yet quite dark enough to turn on the light.
It was just the best time to take melatonin, when the brain’s pineal gland normally secretes it in light of (no pun intended) maintaining day:night cycles in the circadian rhythm of life.
At first glance, its yellow tinge led me to consider throwing it away. But as I tossed this piece of written paper in between my fingers, the handwriting caught my eye - it was mine, it was different from the way I now write, and it was messy, very messy, for me.
I saw the word, “Dad” written on top, and my eyes widened.
I don’t remember writing this letter to my Dad, not at all. From the way it is written, I had already been in the car accident. Perhaps that’s why I don’t recall writing it. It was such an important letter to be without a memory: scribbles here, additional scribbles there, and squished-in scribbles everywhere.
Here is the second page, and then I’ll translate both pages for you:
Page 1
Dad, I’m sure you always made Sammy feel like your only son. I’m sure I speak for all others when I say:
Thank you for making me feel like I was your only daughter.
In 1972, thank you for keeping all of us 7 children instead of sending us out for adoption to different families, as the judge advised you to do.
Thank you for buying us five different kinds of ice cream every week, and for letting us sneak cookies and candy in the shopping cart, claiming surprise at the cash register - but laughing and letting us have everything we wanted anyway.
Thank you for buying us ice cream cones when it was snowing in Big Bear, and letting us walk in the show eating it.
Thank you for helping me derive the quadratic equation off the top of your head, and for consistently showing me that you were one of the most brilliant and beloved fathers possible.
Although you thought it was ridiculous, thank you for blowing out the candle on the Mother’s Day Cakes I baked you on Mother’s Day. You truly were equivalent to a mother and father wrapped in one, and you will be sorely missed.
I won’t say goodbye because I will talk to you, as you are in heaven, every day for the rest of my life. Enjoy your new found peace in heaven. May your children, family, and your children’s children and their children all meet you there when it is our time.
Lastly, thank you, too, for never giving up on us.
The Rebel Patient™ is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
I was still sitting, but I ran to Ed, who listened to me reading this flash from the past, this conglomeration of sentiments and memories not only of my father, but of my brother and my sisters, the times we had, and the missing things that were compensated for - the Mother’s Day Cake celebration that persisted despite all odds, our Big Bear cabin that had the tiniest kitchen in the world, just one bathroom and one bedroom.
We brought sleeping bags, one bag of clothes, and hiked in the woods with pine cones scattered about (a scene I still love to this day: pinecones) …
We are fighting for you and our children. Keep doing your part by:
Sharing this article on Twitter - it won’t get censored.
Don’t have a Twitter? Help us get word out to the general public by opening a Twitter account, LIKING and RETWEETING our content. And if you share, tag me @TheRebelPatient and I’ll Retweet you!
OH! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO “TAG?” You write a Tweet like, “Hi! I’m a tweet!” and then just add, “@TheRebelPatient”, as in: “Hi! I’m a tweet @TheRebelPatient”!
I recommend signing up by phone or email. You get a free email address by being a Substack writer. Mine's therebelpatient@substack.com
PLEASE don’t tell me you don’t have supplements YET! GET Metagenics’ physician-quality. I recommend Immune Defense Pack + Benesome (melatonin). Ships directly. METAGENICS: https://margaretaranda.metagenics.com | AND USE PRACTITIONER CODE = “MargaretAranda”
Remember that it takes about 1 week to receive a shipment, and it will take another 2 weeks to bump up your vitamin D level. Check out vitamin D3 plus K2 at 10,000 IU/day. It's not easy to find this at the store.
Don't know how much vitamin D to take? Calculate it by looking at these two tables, or get your blood drawn:
And remember that melatonin is NOT just for sleep ~ it may help optimize your mitochondria. Take at dusk, not at bedtime, because that's when your brain starts producing it.
GET MY FREE Guidebook to Emergency COVID Care - With Your Personal Tracker™: Perfect gift to print and send to your parents, or a single friend. Consider mailing them a package of supplements from Metagenics - so they STAY WELL!https://covidmasterplan.com/covid-care- tracker%C2%AE
My Guidebook to Low Back Pain: Diagnosis and Treatment: A comprehensive book for chronic pain, especially 24/7 low back pain. Perfect for the general public, doctors, attorneys, and any professional who sees people’s backs: physical therapists. Selected to be on exhibit at the June 2022 American Library Association’s Annual Exhibition and Conference in Washington, DC. See the PRESS RELEASE AND my Amazon book here.
He was my mother and my father, and he ALWAYS made me feel like I was his only child. He invested his time in me, we talked about everything, and he taught me what to look for in a person, and in a man.
He gave me strength.
He believed in me.
He made me feel smart, loved, and important.
When I spoke, he listened.
He made me feel that what I had to say was important.
He shared his dreams with me.
He helped me when I started my first period.
He was my mother and my father.
In my near-death experience, after I saw God’s sun beating masculine life:
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
… it was my father who was RUNNING to me at the top of the Stairway to Heaven. I could smell his scent as he ran to the place located at the top of these steps. I couldn’t feel his disappointment as I left to go back to earth, but I know he is waiting for my return, when it is my time.
… and I knew it was my Dad at the top of the Stairway.
He is still with me and in me.
And I miss him.
I don’t miss him like, “he’s gone and I will never see him again”.
I don’t miss him like, “he’s dead and will never breathe or talk again.”
I miss his company, his advice, his sentiments, and companionship. That’s what is most missed: WHO he was, WHO he IS, and our TOGETHER TIME.
But the thing that keeps me from having a never-ending, prolonged grieving for him is that I KNOW he is in heaven and I WILL see him again.
I hope you get a chance to meet him in my upcoming, REVISED book, No More Tears: A Physician-Turned Patient Inspires Recovery.
Here, I share many childhood memories and I hope you get to know my father.
Thank you for sharing in this life with me. I almost wasn’t here to share any thoughts with you.
