Bob Murray (Bob)
Dad,
There are so many things I wish I could say to you face to face.
Our story wasn’t simple. The beginning was hard. There were years when I didn’t understand you, and years when I carried hurt I didn’t know how to put into words. But what means the most to me — what I will always hold onto — is that our story didn’t end there.
You changed.
In the last fifteen years of your life, you became not just my father, but my friend. We grew closer than I ever thought possible. I will always treasure the Tigers games we went to together — just the two of us. I wasn’t the biggest baseball fan at first, but I loved being there with you. It wasn’t about the game. It was about the time. It was about us.
When I bought you that video game console and you started playing baseball every day, I saw how much joy it brought you. After you passed, I bought one for myself. Now I play that same baseball game, and every time I do, I think of you. It keeps me connected to you. It reminds me that people can grow, relationships can heal, and that it’s never too late to find your way back to each other.
I wish we’d had those later years when I was young. I wish I had known that version of you sooner. But I’m deeply grateful we didn’t miss our chance completely. We found each other before time ran out.
You once made me feel chosen, valued, and close to you in a way that meant more than I can explain. I carry that with me every day.
I miss you.
I’m proud to be your son.
And I will always keep a piece of you alive in the small rituals that remind me of us.
Love always,
Your son
