Dear Dad,

My boys wrote Aaron notes the other day to tell him they were grateful for him. Aaron is not my dad, so I didn't write one. But then it occurred to that I still could, and probably should, write one to you.

You'll never get to read this. It's probably just as well though, seeing as how you were never really the sentimental type. I remember you telling me when I was a teenager, that showing emotion when I was upset about something was a sign of immaturity. I'm still pretty immature in that regard, I'm afraid.

Last Sunday (Nov. 13) was Stew Lemmon Day. It's a tradition that the Ropelatos helped me start all those years ago (has it been 8 years now?) to remember and celebrate you.  We had just gotten back from Hooper. I didn't bring it up while we were up there, because Mom hates to "celebrate" the 13th (the day you died) and would rather celebrate your birthday (Nov. 20th) instead. Me, I do a little of both. We usually have stew and lemonade for dinner on Stew Lemmon Day, but the 13th was kind of a crazy day with meetings and such, so we will probably do that on your B-day this year too.

I reread The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes this month. I thought of you and how you used to read that to us with a flash light when the power went out. Lincoln is almost old enough for me to read him The Mouse and the Motorcycle out loud. I remember when you read that to us too. One of my very favorite memories was sitting around as a family and listening to you read out loud to us. I do my best to recite Green Eggs and Ham to my kids, the exact same boisterous way you used to recite it for us. I don't do as good of a job, but the kids love it. I'm grateful that you and Mom taught us to love reading. I wish we'd always kept reading together as a family.

The other day, I wore earrings, something I rarely do, and I thought of you. Remember that time when I was in Jr. High, and Abby and Alicia and I pierced our ears in my bedroom with a needle and a safety pin? I was pretty sure you were going to kill me, since you'd forbidden me to get them pierced until I was 22. I was very careful to wear my hair down over my ears, but I must not have been careful enough, since you found out. I was so surprised that instead of grounding me until I was dead, that you took me out to lunch (at Sizzler) and presented me with a pair of real diamond studs. You said you wanted to be the first person to ever give me diamonds. I also recall you saying that if you ever caught me with more than one hole in each ear you would rip the earrings out with your bare hands. You never were one to sugar coat anything. :) You told me that the only reason you'd set the rule about being 22 before I could pierce my ears, was so that I had something to rebel against that wouldn't get me into more serious trouble. I'd rebel by piercing my ears, instead of doing drugs, or something like that. I'll admit, I go through phases of understanding your logic and being totally baffled by it.

Growing up, I always thought your rules were harsh and unfair and the punishments over done. Now that I'm an adult, and have slightly more perspective, I don't think it was so much the rules that were the problem (with my own kids I'm starting to see how many of the rules are a great idea), but it's the lack of anything else, I think, that makes me angry. I feel like after I turned 12 our whole  relationship consisted of you telling me what I couldn't do. But we never did anything positive together to reinforce the relationship. We used to read together. We used to go Christmas dress shopping together. But somehow, once I was a teenager the rules and discipline was all there was, because we stopped reading, we stopped shopping, we stopped going for rides in the car to talk about politics, we stopped taking the horses out to pick asparagus. I feel angry and bitter about this. I'm sure I'm partially to blame for it as well.  But since it is the way it is, I'm grateful that I have taken from it a real motivation to keep a strong relationship with my kids. To make sure there are plenty of positives to stick alongside the negatives that will inevitably come.

I feel the need to clarify something. When we were up in Hooper the other day, I was talking with Kyle, and somehow the subject of sneaking out of the house came up. I was telling Kyle how I was always terrified to sneak out because I would have to make it past your bedroom door first. Mom seemed to be under the impression that there was one occasion where I did sneak out, and this is what I would like to clarify. Not true. I never once snuck out of our house. It's true that I made myself a ladder out of wood, and hid it behind the bush that was underneath my window, and that I practiced using it, so that if I wanted to sneak out, I could. But knowing that I could do it was enough. I never actually did.

Did you hear that the NBA is in a lock out right now? I don't watch sports much anymore, because we don't have a TV, but I do always get a little nostalgic twinge in my heart during basketball season. Looking back on it, I don't even know if you were that big of a Jazz fan, but it was something we always did as a family, and I have so many great memories of being a Jazz fan family. Remember you bought those big banners to hang up on the house during the playoffs? And Jazz Jello? You even bought Kyle and I "Get Jazzed" the CD, which takes a bunch of popular songs and changes the lyrics to cheer the Jazz on during the playoffs. I still have it. I play it for Aaron sometimes, but he doesn't understand. I don't think I've even been to a Jazz game since you and Mom had season tickets. I wonder if the personal pan pizza we always got from the Pizza Hut stand would taste as good as I remember it. I wonder if Mom ever wears the leather Jazz jacket you bought for her anymore.

I'm grateful that we had scripture study as a family. I remember it being kind of sporadic. We'd go for awhile, and then we wouldn't for awhile, and so on. We tried different times of day, different lengths of time, having everyone read, having only one person read, and so on. I don't know if you ever knew that I was listening. I don't know if I even knew that I was listening. But when I read my scriptures now, I occasionally come to a verse here, or a chapter there, and I have a distinct memory of something you taught us about it. I can hear your voice in my head, stopping whoever was reading so you could give further explanation. We complained and whined and rolled our eyes. We just wanted to get through as quickly as possible and be done. But you taught us anyway...and now, years later, I remember. Thank you.

One night for Family Home Evening, we made a family tree for the kids, because Lincoln was a little confused about the extended family relationships. We just did grandparents, and great grandparents. We explained that you don't live on Earth anymore, but that you are up in Heaven with Heavenly Father and Jesus. Since then, it's not an uncommon thing for Lincoln in his prayers to say that he's grateful for "Papa Stew" who lives up in Heaven with Jesus. I know you've met all my kids...for all I know you probably had a hand in picking them out. But sometimes I really just wish you could be here to see them. They are the coolest things. I and wish you could see me too. See that I actually "turned out" so to speak. That somehow I made it past being the selfish, sullen, stubborn teenager, who just wanted to prove the she could be in charge of her own life. I bet there were days (probably years) where you didn't think that I would.

Aaron and I are trying to be in the process of buying a house. Boy, do I wish you were here for that. I could use some advice from someone who knows what they're talking about. If you feel like sending me any from up there, it would sure be appreciated. :) 

Well, this is some letter, eh? I just started going and couldn't stop. I hope things are going well up there in Heaven (that's probably a really stupid statement, of course they're going well...it's Heaven.) I know we all miss you down here. We all have different ways of showing it, but I see it in all of us.

Happy Stew Lemmon Day last Sunday and Happy Birthday this coming. Love you Dad.

-Krystal