August 25, 2008 - Dear Waddy,

Dear Waddy,

I think I thought more about you during this pregnancy than I did during the first several months after you died.

In weird ways your memory and your lessons were with me the whole pregnancy from start to finish.
You taught me to think quickly and to hastily do basic math in my head. Thus, when Irma and I decided to try for a second child I did the quick math and realized 40 weeks from that fertile moment would roughly be your birthday. I told Irma then that after six months of being so sure I wanted a second child I now wanted another month to make sure I was sure. I only told her the truth about the reason for my delay after Lentil was born.

The other thought that kept going through my head was that if this baby were to be a boy it would be the second son of a second son of a second son.

I ended up with a second son born a month early -- thus just 12 days after your birthday. With all that, how could I not think about you?

I'm sorry our relationship wasn't in a good place when you died. We grew apart as we grew older. And we were never able to have that Big Talk you see in Hollywood films that suddenly resolve years of frustration. I've developed a comfortable understanding of our relationship -- even if it's not totally realistic or perhaps even fair.

I know you weren't perfect; noone is. I could fault you for lots of my issues. However, I'm an adult now and I'm prepared to claim them as my issues and something I need to deal with rather than your faults and something you need to apologize for.I think my anger toward you came from disappointment.

Mom tells me that when I was young, you were my hero. When I'm able to clearly think back that far, I know she's right. I remember how far you could throw a ball, how fast you could run, how strong you were, how fast you could do math and how quickly you could spell words backwards. More importantly I remember how you played with us and all the other kids in the neighborhood, how you bought our Little League teams ice cream win or lose and how you showed up at every game.
Mom also tells me that you had this great desire to be a father. You wanted to right the wrongs your father had done to you. Perhaps this was another reason you became your sons' hero.
Somewhere along the line things changed.

Perhaps it's a cliche to suggest that my hero worship and thus your motivation died the moment we both realized I could compete with you. But perhaps there is truth in it. We all tell the story about the day you challenged your three boys to a foot race believing you could still out run at least two of them only to finish a distant fourth. I used to laugh at that story. More recently I've used it to symbolize my anger with you.

I felt that somewhere along the line you gave up and that's what angered me. I felt you stopped carrying about yourself and therefore those around you. You kept eating and ignoring doctors orders and your family's pleas.

Maybe it was the day of the race. Maybe it was earlier or later. Perhaps you were always like that. I'll never know for sure. I just know I was mad at you for it.

Another part of the pregnancy that made me think of you are these two quotes from the book Big Fish I posted on my office wall. The Big Fish in the book was like you in many ways. In fact, the story is much like one I wrote about you that you never liked. Basically the son characters in both stories come to eventually appreciate that the numerous stories their father told them over and over again were more "A man lives on if his stories are retold." "A man is a success if his son loves him."

I remember yor stories and I do love you.