June 24th, 2014
Dear Father,
Yesterday in a moment I lost a dog. I wasn't paying attention and she tumbled, jumped or fell out of the window of my car. Her injuries were severe and she wasn't likely to make it through the care without considerable pain and possible death through sepsis.
This was Rosie, a trouble maker, who loved to get into things. Continually hunting, you couldn't leave her in a room by herself or she would get into something. I got into the habit of taking her with me when I left the house because otherwise she would spend too much time in her kennel to keep her out of trouble.
She would stand at the door and wait to go with me if she saw my keys. She always had to see out so was usually standing on something and often would slide off if I had to hit my brakes suddenly but she had avoided being hurt.
I almost left her at home yesterday. If I had, a walk into the living room right now would result in me finding her lying on the couch which was her habit after her morning check for food. But I didn't I took her with me, and after a fateful turn off the main road onto a side road I found she wasn't in the car with me.
The vet was friendly and kind and she looked so funny in her bandages when Isabella and I went down to say goodbye. I looked into her eyes and told her she was a good dog as the light went out and she went to sleep one last time.
I said goodbye yesterday to someone I loved. Maybe today you could say hello.
Love, your son,
Jason Vincent Alexander Murray
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
June 15, 2014
Dear Father,
Happy Father's Day. You have missed so many, gone for all these years. You must have enjoyed that first one, in 1965, when you held Keith and felt the joy and bond of fatherhood for the first time. A year later you were a dad twice, but by 1968 you were no more. Sleep had taken you and robbed you of the last 46 Father's Days.
Sometimes Father's Day feels special, and sometimes it just reminds me of the loss I suffered at such a young age. Sometimes I feel like I'm letting my own children down by not doing more, not being more successful, not giving them everything they want and need.
You left us before I could ever draw you a card, or like my son has done for the last three Father's Days turn you into a super hero. In my son's drawings, my super alter ego is one that fights with a spatula and a chef's hat shield. "On a mission to save people from bad food everywhere!" You know, food is an important part of who I am, my son gets that. Music is what kept you going. Keith and I get that.
love, your son,
Jason Vincent Alexander Murray
Dear Father,
Happy Father's Day. You have missed so many, gone for all these years. You must have enjoyed that first one, in 1965, when you held Keith and felt the joy and bond of fatherhood for the first time. A year later you were a dad twice, but by 1968 you were no more. Sleep had taken you and robbed you of the last 46 Father's Days.
Sometimes Father's Day feels special, and sometimes it just reminds me of the loss I suffered at such a young age. Sometimes I feel like I'm letting my own children down by not doing more, not being more successful, not giving them everything they want and need.
You left us before I could ever draw you a card, or like my son has done for the last three Father's Days turn you into a super hero. In my son's drawings, my super alter ego is one that fights with a spatula and a chef's hat shield. "On a mission to save people from bad food everywhere!" You know, food is an important part of who I am, my son gets that. Music is what kept you going. Keith and I get that.
love, your son,
Jason Vincent Alexander Murray
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