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Dear Dad,
Mendel said it would be a good idea to start journaling how I feel like I’m writing a letter to you. To tell you what I feel. I think it’s a little funny, but I figured if he’s a psychiatrist, then it has to work. So here goes nothing.
Your funeral happened today. They buried you next to Whizzer, just like you asked. I am going to turn 15 in a month and a half. I think it will be weird to have a birthday without you here, just like it was weird when Whizzer wasn’t here. It’s kinda different with Whizzer, but when he died, it was different from when you and him weren’t together anymore. Like, I know you and Whizzer can’t come at all to my birthday.
Mom and Mendel said I could invite some friends over for my birthday, but I’m not sure if I want to. I can’t stop thinking about your funeral. It was today, so that makes sense, but it was so weird. When Whizzer died, I had you, but now that you’re gone, all I have is Mom and Mendel (And Cordelia and Charlotte, but it’s not the same). I had a lot of friends say that they were sorry that you died, but I told them I kinda knew that you were going to.
They asked me why I knew you were going to die, and when I told them, they looked uncomfortable. It’s because of what you died from, I know that. But why don’t they get that there was nothing anyone could do? Dr. Charlotte tried her best to help you, but you were there, you knew that you wanted to leave as soon as you realized what was happening.
I’m not sure this journaling thing is working, Dad. I just feel worse. It’s just the start of shiva too. You looked so different in the casket, like you were alive, but better. It made me feel sick. I’ll try journaling again some other time.
I love you Dad,
Say hi to Whizzer for me.
– Jason. August 1983