The Last Letter I Wrote to My Father Before He Died

I Don’t Know If He Read It Before He Passed to The Other Side

My father and his wife, Patrice. Photo credit to Anthony Edgeworth.

An image of Dad and Pat, his second wife, by Anthony Edgeworth

My father died within days of writing him the last letter of our wonderful life together. Over the years, we had exchanged countless cards, letters, stories, and conversations. I’m sure my father was a modern mystic, but he didn’t know it.

I found the letter yesterday morning while reviewing my Life Planning Notebook. Yes, I have had one for over thirty years. I reason that no one else will if I don’t plan my life with intention.

For my readers who know me well, you know how much I loved my father. He was my first hero, a positive role model, and the one who always said, “Clifford, no matter what happens, we will always love you. Please come to us with any of your troubles. We’re here to help you.”

The Last Letter

Dad lived in Florida, and my family and I live in Arizona. Though we were both busy with our lives, we were never too busy to exchange personal notes, cards, articles, and clippings of newspaper articles that inspired us. We also shared a love for reading books, and we talked at least once every week.