|Letter to dad: he's gone
||[Apr. 25th, 2018|08:56 pm]
In the last post, I told it to post the letter in the body of the message, but I just looked and it decided to put it in as an attached HTML file. I'd rather do it this way. So, below, find the post I tried to get to the blog through Google docs.
This is my blog and I feel I want to publish it at this time.
If you want to comment on the letter, please feel free to do so.
I know of a couple of mistakes, one is a word braught instead of baught, and the other, no space between sentences.
Besides that, its pretty good, and those family members who read it said they liked it.
This letter was written from the heart.
I know it has been a hard road, bringing up a son who is visually impaired. I know you really tried to do the best you can, both with getting the equipment I needed, to helping find me a job. Sadly, finding me a job is hard, and I have been trying my best with the skills I have to get that job, even though there are challenges.
The time has come to where you can’t help any more. I’ll continue to run your sites as long as it can be run. I learned how to code on my own, although I was willing to change your sites per your request. I would have been happy to do so, but I didn’t know what you wanted on them. I wonder how someone is to run a site and make changes when they don’t know what you want on it? I had asked, but you didn’t tell me what you wanted, and you asked someone else to do it. I would’ve done it if I knew what exactly you wanted on each page. I can’t read your mind.
I just want to take this opportunity to thank you for everything you have done for me. I know that after mom left, you bent over backwards for me to try and help me. You’ve tried to apply to many different jobs for me, and I’ve also applied and went on many interviews through the years.
While I took the workforce readiness class that was required by going to Tierra and passing it, it's not lead me any closer to a job. I got the lead for Spectrum, and felt I did a great job in that interview although they said that they wouldn’t select me to move forward because they were unsure how I could do the job. I explained what the software you bought for me does, and offered to show them should I be selected to continue with the company.
Today’s internet is not the same as you and I grew up using it. You’ve been on the internet a very long time, and I appreciate the fact you let me use the address belonging to your name until we moved to Windows.
From the DOS software, to the Windows software, and even the OCR software and scanners, you’ve really done your best to equip me for a future of independence. You and I have spent many hours working on making the software work for me, teaching each other what it can do, and even allowing me to take a course that ended up getting cancelled anyhow although I was still able to go and take a course for free. That was a fun experience, and one I won’t forget. I ended up taking the train on my own to one course, and took access to take another one.
You brought two screen readers for me, one a daily reader, the other used for music. I don’t really know why I grew tired of the music, but now I’m using that reader, while the other closed in 2017.
One of the screen readers was used with my work with SCCM. I appreciated the fact that I learned JFW, the screen reader, with the program CakeWalk so I could make my own music. I know you wanted me to continue it, but I just got board, only recently, getting interested in the piano a little bit to dabble while dealing with the end of life that you had.
It was very nice that I was able to get Richard down here to visit you before it was too late. Tuesday was the perfect day, as Wednesday was the coming of the end although we did not know it at the time. We really wished that you could have continued the fight so that we can continue to find a cure for different kinds of cancer, but this was memorable to have Richard come to see you although the others never made it.
Getting back to the screen readers, I also got in to another screen reader which you weren’t introduced to. The screen reader is called NVDA. Its similar to Jaws, and I wish I could show you how it works. The screen reader is free, with optional donations. I’ve used it recently to do some work that VEDC asked me to do for their website to make sure it worked with the access technology, as this company hands out loans to small businesses for their needs. I wrote a report and sent it to them while I was there with that piece of software. It worked out well. Too bad it wasn’t around when you bought my computer way back when, but I have it now for when I’m on the road. Jaws, the current screen reader, does not have a portable version anymore. The last version was 15, but I do not think it is compatible with the current operating systems that we have today.
In other things, I really wish I had the courage to tell you what mom was doing to us kids, more importantly me. While there were good qualities, I know that at that time, it wasn’t feasible for you to do everything, because of your long commute to work from where we used to live. I know it must have been hard learning about what mom did to us, but I know that she left for other reasons, none of which is important right now.What is important, is that you were happy, and when it was time, you made the decision that was best for you. I am proud of the fact you made the decision when it was best for you.
After mom left, you were patient in helping me get to where I am today. Teaching me things I tried to get, to even understanding the things I could improve, this was the quality I could get behind with you. Even if you got mad with me, you never raised your voice like mom did, and if you did, you never laid a hand on me like mom did. That I’m happy about. It makes me proud.
Seeing you suffer makes me sad. It reminds me of papa too much. The family is trying to make it safe for me, but it just feels too much. I am trying to spend time with you before you go, whenever that may be, but I’m finding it difficult because my senses do not like the sounds. I’m trying my best to ignore the sense and come in as much as I can before it's too late, but I’m finding it difficult. If only I didn’t have the sense, maybe it would be easier for me. It seems like alcohol helps, but I’m not using that to help me cope with the fact you’re dying.
I was hoping that the treatment you were getting was helping with killing the cancer, allowing your body to fight the disease, and you’d be back to normal. It pains me to know that the urging of us to get you to quit smoking came to this.
I am proud that at times where it was not appropriate to smoke, you did not smoke. I don’t know when that would have been, but in the end, you did quit in 2016 for good and I praised you for that. I was so happy to see you not smoke anymore, that I was hoping that things would be fine now for years.
During my DARE class, I vowed not to smoke or drink, but I do have a drink on weekends, and I definitely know when it is enough. During this time, I’ve felt at times that I’ve had a little bit too much, but I don’t think I overdid it. I always felt fine the next day, and I did feel more relaxed.
I’m hoping that at the times you’ve had drinks, you did it to relax, not more to get drunk. I guess occasionally, you got drunk, however, I don’t remember these episodes, but know that you will never see me drunk like that.
As you pass, my sense tells me that you are at peace. I felt this sense for a week before you went from the time you got home from the hospital, to the time I went to sleep the night before you passed. I don’t feel it anymore , my sense is relaxed now. I wish I could explain what this is, but I am not really sure about what this sense is and why I even have it. I’m hopeful now that it will be quiet for awhile so I can continue to do the work we need to do after your passing.
May you now rest in peace. It was hard for me to tell you that you needed to sleep, I’ve tried to tell you that for a long time, but you finally went to sleep more on a permanent basis.
The family and I will miss you. Sleep well, you’ve earned it.