Hi Dad, hope you're doing fine high above us. Hope you have met all your heroes who are suddenly all leaving this planet.

I just wondered... Would you have been proud of me if I'd survive this struggle I'm in right now and have been for the last one year? Or would you have been irritated - as usual - to not be so obsessed with my own problems, rather with yours? Would you believe in such a thing as revival? That men can actually re-start their life, clean sheet and so on? I guess not, since you're not here anymore neither. You couldn't re-start. Maybe you simply didn't believe in it.

Thought to speak to you, as a litany which never crossed my mouth when you were still here with us. 
I have literally hated you Dad, wished you never lived anymore. So mad of you, being the narcissistic egoistic self-concerned person you were. Never caring about anyone except for yourself. But maybe I'm not correct, and you only over-compensated yourself, the same way as I have done for 37 years.

But you know what? I've been confronted with my own behavior along the road last year, been shown a mirror, saw my true horrors. Like to see myself as a phoenix, rising from its ashes. Phoenix' rise from their ashes into the very same creature they were before. Phoenix might not be a good metaphor for me Dad. Maybe the best metaphor should be you. What you should have been/done, but never did. You could have been the Phoenix. Now I am. 

I'm pretty sure that if you'd still lived to experience, you would blame me for whatever situation I'm in right now. That I'm to blame for the accident, the fatality. Pretty sure that you wouldn't even believe my heroism right after the crash, the intuitive actions. You never saw that in me, and you would never want to. But what you would do is tell me to get myself together, that there is a family waiting for me.

Strange to say out loud, that you always cared about one other's family but never too much about your own. You never let Mommy be her true self, but then again she neither wanted. You never cared if we are there or not. But then again you begged us to come over now and then. You banned us all out of the house time by time, but then again cried out loud when we weren't there.

Get my shit together. This is what I'm in the middle of right now. And you know what? It feels good! I'm stronger than ever, could move mountains if needed. I will make my wife and kids feel loved again. I will sacrifice the narcissistic pieces I've inherited from you Dad. Because they hurt others. Like they hurt Mommy. You know she said that she's never lead the life she wanted to, right when she was about to pass away? That should be your mirror Dad. You have your mirror too, just like me. But you failed to see that mirror while alive, don't know where you are now and how you deal with it there. Surely Mommy's not around there, she wouldn't want to share heaven with you. Or maybe she would. Maybe you have indeed become the Phoenix you should have been while alive. And by really accepting this as a truth, I'm proud of you Dad. And I'm going to do the same way. I'll arise from my ashes. And I'll remember. And I'll never put down the mirror. It shows so much more than eyes can see. 

I love you Dad.