Dear Daddy,
I wish we were so much closer. I'm sorry that I've grown up, and things have gotten complicated. I'm sorry I had to live up north, and we only got to see each other every other weekend for four years. It didn't seem like a big deal back then. I regret it now. I wish we could have spent so much more time together. I'm so afraid our time will be cut short.
Daddy I'm scared. What if this medication switch doesn't fix it? What if you are still coughing? What if you have cancer from all of that asbestos exposure in the mill?
Why didn't they figure this out sooner? I've secretly been crying myself to sleep for months, terrified of the C-word. I know they gave you chest x-rays but it usually doesn't show up on those until its too late. The doctor said herself she wants you in for a cat-scan.
And the fact that you are turning 60 this year scares me even more. It never bothered me that you and mom were so much older than all of my friends parents, but now I realize the disadvantage. I understand now that I'll probably be robbed of precious years with you and mom that other children get to have. I know I have no room to talk, since you lost your parents at the age of 3, but I've taken you for granted way too much.
I want you to know that I love you, so much, even though I don't show it often.
I'll always be your little girl no matter what. I promise you that.
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