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I received the following email from a friend today who has the true gift of being able to put feelings into words. Below is a letter he wrote his Dad of the admiration and love he had for him. Wow!
From John Philips
“Dear Dad,
Sometimes I feel I’ve mastered the art of talking without ever being able to get down to saying what I really feel. I hope to overcome that in this letter.
We were talking about parent-children problems tonight and, if anyone had asked me 25 years ago to describe my parents and their influence on me, I probably would have laughed and coughed up a lot of drivel. Looking back, I realize now that over my lifetime I’ve managed to bring you and Mum an abundant share of heartache, agony and pain. Please put that down to arrogance. ignorance and immaturity on my part — qualities which I haven’t gotten over, but which I’m learning to subdue with greater facility.
My problem stems partly from you, Dad — you were always too good a man. You have always been to me an ideal to emulate, a goal to reach for — and sometimes, when I couldn’t achieve the heights that you had risen to, I took perverse delight in going off the other way. Even recently I’ve felt I had to get my book published to ‘show the old man’ something — that I’d somehow ‘made it’ — to where? for what? who knows?…
It may seem that I’m saying that ‘Dad, I don’t need you anymore’ and , in part, that’s true — but that expression doesn’t mean what it seems to convey. It is not ‘I don’t need you because I’m now me,’ but rather ‘I don’t need you because now I am you’ — in a pale imitation, inadequate way perhaps — but in a way that makes a tremendous difference in my life.
You, Dad, together with Mum, have given me a tremendous capacity for love — something which I’ve enjoyed sharing with my family, my students, the world at large. I still greet strangers on the street with a cheery ‘hello,’ not because it’s expected but because I enjoy it — and they smile back. If my children, family, friends don’t measure up to someone else’s expectations — so be it. They have given me pleasure beyond measure and I love and thank them for it.
Another thing you taught me, Dad, is ‘It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose — it’s how you play the game.’ Believe it or not (and I think you do), there are very few people who believe that today — and yet it is a principle that guides my life as you let it guide yours. I’ve tried to pass that philosophy on to the people I know. When it comes right down to it, the only person one is competing against is oneself — all other competition is pointless and immaterial.
You’ve given me a set of values and a moral code — idealistic, yes — unrealistic, no — there are some things worth sacrificing for, even worth dying for. These values run all the way from basic courtesy and fair play to intellectual and spiritual integrity — and I thank you for them. They are part of the reason I feel I know myself now and definitely part of the reason I love myself. It goes right back to Polonius and your advice during our Sunday lunch discussions: “To thine own self be true.” That makes life worth living.
It may seem from the number of letters I write home and our infrequent visits that I’m seldom thinking of you — but just the opposite is true. I’m always thinking of you, and when I come to a tough decision to make, my thoughts are immediately ‘Now what would Dad do in this situation?’ and then I try to follow through. You’re always with me — in every move I make, in every kind word said, in every joke I tell.
You’ve given me a sense of humor and a joy in living — two values that are irreplaceable and I pity anyone who has, in their search for ‘meaning’ or riches in life, casually pushed these aside…
Dad, — I kind of pride myself in being able to put feelings into words — but words fail to express what is really in my heart. For all the distance that exists between a father and son, you are as close to me as my inner mind. I’ve always been proud of you, enjoyed laughing with you, looked to you for strength and guidance, and relished in your abundant love. If I hadn’t been lucky enough to have had you for my father, I would have wanted you for my father.
Love, your son, John”
P.S. At the top of the letter above, Dad had written ‘Given to me by John. Sat. noon, Dec. 26/81. I cried when I read it.’ Thanks, Dad — you’re the best!!
(Below is a piece of unsolicited, but sincerely meant, advice:
- If you have anyone in your life — relative, friend, acquaintance — who really has or continues to make your life worth living, write them to tell them so. They may feel even better after receiving your letter; I know that you MOST DEFINITELY will.
- This applies to people VERY CLOSE to you, as well; don’t wait until Valentine’s Day to let your spouse know he or she is your world: write them a letter today…and then another one tomorrow (This will really freak them out! Yeah!!)