Dear Dad, That sounds strange. I have never called anyone Dad before. There are so many thoughts that are running through my mind, which makes this even more difficult. As a child, I had so many questions I wanted to ask you. Now, as a man, I wonder what type of relationship we would have had. Mom and I were not close. As I hit my teen years, I became more selfish, while at the same time trying to establish my own identity. Needless to say, I didn't go about it in the right way. It was more like me trying to be a man on the outside while still being a boy on the inside. Your life was unknown to me, and your death was complex and confusing. I tried to visualize what it would have been like to grow up with you in my life. In the many daydreams I had as a kid, I built you up into a superhero, who was coming back to save the day. But reality set in, and I knew you were not coming back. Somewhere along the way I put up a shield. I didn't want any more broken promises. I thought it would be best if I put you out of my mind, but you were not out of my conscience. Growing up, I asked about you all the time, but no answer filled the void. So, instead of filling up a bottomless pit of emotions, I buried you away. Unfortunately, when you died, I was never in a relationship with my biological grandparents. I didn't know much about my grandmother. She married and had children. I had aunts and uncles who didn't know about me. I felt unwanted and incomplete. But thankfully one Thanksgiving they were here in North Carolina, and someone mentioned they had a nephew. They wanted to know their older brother's son. They embraced me and accepted me with open arms. I love and thank them for that. After being in their presence, the empty space reserved for them in my heart started filling up. But I had missed out on so much, and I felt cheated out of decades of history. A part of who I am, they weren't there for: birthdays, holidays and special family occasions. Growing up without them was hurtful. Your father was married for nearly forty years, and we did not know we were living in the same city together. At your funeral, he was sitting in the back, meek and humble. He had just lost his son, and he thought his grandchild had been taken to New York. Over twenty years later he was in a store, and a lady asked him how his grandson was doing. He told her that I was up in New York. She said, "No he's not. He is right here in North Carolina." They found my mother's sister. She gave them my number. He called me, and I went to meet him for the very first time. Now we are working on our grandfather-grandson relationship. So much of the life you gave me came back in broken pieces. Yet your presence is still here, and there are still so many questions. Were you there for me when I was a baby? Did you hold me in your arms with pride and say, "That's my son"? Looking down from heaven, did you see me make my first touchdown? The wind that was blowing, was that you patting me on the back? When I stood on stage for talent shows, plays, and gave speeches to small and large crowds, were you in the audience? If you were watching over me when I was a child and as I grew into a man, I hope you were able to voice with some joy the words "That's my son." Even though those questions can never be answered, I want to thank you for giving me life. I have had some difficult days with many trials and tribulations, but, through it all, I thank God I am still here. Life is precious and should be taken in with joy. With every breath I take, I am going to live my life to the fullest and not let my ambitions be swayed. I see tomorrow with open eyes and appreciation for the love I have, and the love I have received. You may not have raised me, but you have been with me throughout my life's journey. Keep watching. I'm just getting started. Your son, Ronnie