Words For My Father

Dad. You’re not here. You’re somewhere in the stratosphere. Beyond the veil. Behind the curtain. On the other side.

You’ve shuffled off this mortal coil…yet you were never a shuffler. Not ever.

You’re not here. Not here to read all the stories I’m writing. Some of them about you. Some of them about us. All of them part and parcel of who you were.

Did I ever tell you what a wonderful writer you were…and should have been?

You’re not here. Not here to say you’re proud of me. Or that you “know” I can do it. What is it that you knew I could do, Dad? I thought I, too, knew, but sometimes…

I am what you instilled in me…in my heart and soul, I’m a writer.

You’re not here. Not here so I can say “thank you.” You made me, fed me, clothed me. And often, you infuriated me. As I did, you.

Sometimes you hated me…I know it…and sometimes, I hated you.

You’re not here. Not here to make your famous Mai Tai. Or tend your garden. Or labor over your crossword puzzles. Or polish off the last drops of vodka in that economy-sized bottle.

Are you with Mom? I hope so. You have to be.

You’re not here. Instead, you’re in a box. Beneath the still-frozen ground. Alongside Mom. Where you’ve always been.

Why that choice, Dad? Instead of the other? No matter. You’re not here.

Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.