Originally written in honor of dad’s birthday September 2012

Manuel Pacheco Jr Class of 1961

Since dad died, I have had thoughts about random life moments that I wanted to share with him; jokes I wanted to tell; gossip I wanted to whisper and work drama I needed to vent. I would have these split-second urges to pick up the phone and call him. The urges to call started happening less and less as the reality of his death started to settle in our lives. I struggled with how to stay connected to dad.
I tried talking to him in the car, but then I’d start crying while driving. I didn’t like the odd looks I’d get from the other drivers when they realized I didn’t blue tooth ear piece. Awkward!
I tried writing him letters, but I couldn’t finish one. There were just so many things I wanted to say and I’d get the paper soaked with tears before I could finish. I took up writing about him, instead of, to him. The reflections have been healing for me, but, even that, was not enough to feel connected to dad.
I was still looking to find a way to share the random thoughts, the tender moments with the family, and the precious sight of beautiful things. When I’d find myself wishing dad could see what I saw or hear what I was hearing, I’d make a quick mental note, hoping he was “listening or watching.”
I guess I should have taken my own advice. When the kids would say they wished Papa could see them do something, we would tell them, “Papa can see you from heaven.” They would look up and search the heavens for signs of Papa. My Daniel, only two and a half, would search with such intensity. He has moved past the disappointment of not “seeing” Papa, although we have to be careful when we are talking about “going to see Papa at the VA cemetery.” Now, we say “we’re going to pray at Papa’s cemetery.”
We have embraced Papa’s spirit and the little signs he leaves for us; a beautiful Cardinal sunbathing in the backyard, a sudden strong breeze, a “papa song” seemingly coming on out of nowhere, or blinding sunlight at the exact moment we are wondering if Papa could see us now. I can feel his presence all around us. I feel like I’m getting his notes to me, but how do I get my notes to him.

It wasn’t until Julia got her latest postcard from a friend of mine, Lynda Daniel, that I put it all together. Lynda has been sending Julia postcards from her and David Daniel’s trips around the world for several years now. Sharing the beautiful landmarks and scenery from Paris to Germany to New York to San Francisco, has been an adventure for our whole family. Dad loved checking the mail and reading those postcards. I guess it was the mail carrier in him, delivering each one with care to Julia.

The postcard pictures are beautiful! The notes are short, but descriptive and always leaving us feeling like we could see, feel, hear and smell everything first hand. Lynda’s postcards gave me an idea. What if I could send “postcards to heaven” that capture the random life moments and pictures of my life’s beautiful scenery, my family? Over the last year, they would have read something like this…..

Dear Dad—
Cheraty’s miracle was realized today. Little Lily was born. She is so beautiful. Take a look!
Miss You!

Dear Dad—
You would be so proud of David and his baseball team. Doesn’t he look so handsome in his baseball uniform? I promise, he is not wearing his baseball cap backwards.
Love you!

Dear Dad—
Julia is still at it. She is still singing in choir and working hard at her Algebra and Spanish. I promise, we are taking care of your baby. She misses you so much! Did you see how much taller she is than me now?
Thinking of you!

Dear Dad—
Did you see our little athlete? Olivia loved her time in soccer! She is so motivated. You would be so proud of her.
Missing You!

The more I practiced doing this, the more connected I felt to dad. I didn’t need to send long letters or talk to dad for hours on end, to feel connected to him. With my heart open, I receive his messages and I send postcards to heaven.

Dear Dad—
Happy Birthday! I miss you so…
Wish you were here!

This sustained me for a year while I continued to look for ways to remember dad. We had a gathering of family on the one year anniversary of his death. I shared the piece and got vintage postcards printed up for all of us to share our own “postcards to heaven” little messages of our lives. It was beautiful!