love in a box

I call my dad two or three times a week. Now depending on others for much of his care, Dad's world is shrinking. It's hard for him to look outside himself and admittedly, I get a little heartache every time we talk. I couldn't call him on my birthday two weeks ago because I knew he wouldn't realize the day and, well, I just couldn't.

Today I pulled a box of letters from my closet. I lifted the lid and on top was a card - a birthday card dated 2002. In strong, even, handwriting it reads:

What an absolute joy it is to be the proud father of an ideal daughter. You are always there, no matter what role is involved: daughter, wife, mother, sister or friend. My only regret is that your mother didn't live to enjoy you as I have. May you never change.
Lots of love,
Dad

Thank you, Dad. Your love for me is still in your heart, but I'm thankful to have it in writing, in a box of letters.