The night had fallen hard on Cindy Brady. It was one o'clock in the morning and she laid awake in her bed crying. Yesterday, an hour ago, it had been Father's Day and Mike Brady was not here to celebrate it. He had passed away a few short months ago that felt like a million years to everyone in the family. He was such a kind, loving man who could give you a good talking to when needed be. Cindy's own father had died when she was a year old so she was never old enough to grieve her birth father's death but boy was she feeling this one.
She rolls over to the bedstand where her tissue box lay nearly empty. Shoot, she thinks, another thing to add to my shopping list tomorrow. As she was leaning in to grab the tiny few pieces of tissue paper, she notices her pen by her alarm clock and a notepad on the next shelf where she had been jotting down ideas for her morning radio segment. That was when she heard her father's voice ring in her ears.
"Whenever you feel troubled and nobody's around, go jot it down on paper and see how much better you feel," he would tell her.
"Terrific idea!" Cindy exclaims out loud. She gets up with pen and notebook paper in hand and goes over to flip on the light switch. The brightness hurts Cindy's exhausted eyes for a moment but it quickly faded as the first thing she sees at her desk is a picture of her father and her. It was taken and Greg and Nora's wedding where she happened to be one of the bridesmaids. They were dancing to "My Cherie Amour" by Stevie Wonder. He had already danced with her mother and sisters by the time Stevie started to play. She remembers Marcia taking the picture as she smiled for her while Mike kissed her cheek. It had always been one of Cindy's favorite photo. It was what she needed to get the words, and her remaining tears, to spill out.
Daddy,
It's Father's Day and I would love nothing more than to celebrate this holiday just once more with you. Even though you weren't my birth father, you had always been my father from day one. Even back when you and mom were just friends through the boy's mother. I used to love when you would tell the stories of how when I was just a little baby and you would stroke my hair and how I would smile so big for as long as you kept doing it!
I remember as I got older, it was the tummy tickles. Whenever I had a bad dream or I was going through something traumatic, like my tonsil surgery, you were always there to give me the tummy tickle and I would feel so much better. I would give anything for a tummy tickle or a hair stroke right now.
I was so happy when you married mom. I couldn't have asked for a better husband for mom than you. You loved her so much and she loved you, too. She still loves you. My sisters, who I couldn't have asked for a better father for, still love you too. I will never thank you enough for stepping up to the plate and taking care of all of us as you have. I love you...
The tears had begun to cloud her eyes once again. They spilled onto the paper and made the blue ink smudge with her fresh tears. She rolls her chair away from her desk and hears something fall off from behind.
"Shit," she says bending over to pick up the dropped object. She was shocked when she found out what it was. It was an old keychain that her father had given her. In bold, glittery red lettering, it read "I love you." She held the precious object to her heart as she smiled to herself. He couldn't have made it anymore clear that he was indeed with her and that he was loving her from heaven. With that, she got up turned off the light and went back to bed.
