Eli wrote the following letter to his Dad when he was in the hospital, Len enjoyed it a few hours before his passing. He died with joy and pride for his son.
To my one and only Dad-- I hope a letter will be a little bit easier to digest than talking on that difficult phone. If you are feeling up to a bit of reading, I had a few somewhat disconnected thoughts I wanted to share, and maybe they will help keep you occupied during your stay in the hospital.
You’ve taught me to try and find meaning and narrative in the events of our lives. It is a difficult thing to do. But you’ve also taught me what it looks like to revise and persevere. It’s time to use those lessons now.
I was afraid I was about to lose you yesterday. I am grateful that the worst did not happen two nights ago, and that I had the opportunity to see you yesterday, and to try to tell you some of the things that I want you to know:
I love you.
I cherish the time we have spent together. I am grateful that you are my father.
I continue to struggle to find meaning in the scary events of the past two days, and I am sure I have not yet totally succeeded. But a few inklings have occurred to me that I wanted to share with you. Hopefully, if you’re up to it, we’ll be able to talk them over, just like always. If not, no sweat. Rest up.
First thought: I understand that it is an important part of a father’s job to prepare his son for life’s adventure. In my own life, there have been three times when I have most clearly seen and appreciated the commitment and effort you have put into raising me. One was my bar mitzvah, when I was ceremonially introduced to the idea of becoming an adult, although it was still a ways over the horizon. You described the shape of adulthood to me and helped me experience the first steps toward independence. The second was when I left home and learned how to get by in the world. The third moment is still in the future, but I finally became aware of it yesterday, speaking with you: when a father has prepared his son for life’s adventure, judges that he is ready, and finally leaves him to it. We must be brave--I think you are braver than I am. I am not looking forward to going it alone, but I know one thing for sure--you’ve prepared me well, and I am deeply grateful for your lessons.
Here’s another thought. I know this is all a bit jumbled--I’ll edit a bit more, this is just a first draft!
You have accompanied me a long ways into adulthood. There were times when I was afraid I might not be so fortunate. But, as you once said to me when it was my turn in the hospital, you’re tough. You’re game. And here you are, miracle of miracles, the lamp stayed lit! And this has given me time over the last ten years, and now just over this last day, to start to understand a few things. Like how important it is to tie up loose ends and leave nothing unsaid. Fortunately, I have never kept anything from you, so we’ll have no dramatic revelations! Just the important stuff that I’ve said before and I’ll say again:
You are part of me, and I see you in myself every day. And I am proud of that. It is an honor unique in all the world. No matter what the coming days or weeks or the infinity forever after hold in store for us, I will always be with you, and you will always be with me. It is an inexpressible fortune to me that I am your son.
Rest up and take it easy, ok? I’ll see you back at the house when they finally let you out of there. I love you. -Eli