I have decided to write you, your brothers, and your mother a letter once a year. I hope Lee, our family attorney, dumps at least twenty letters in everyone’s lap when I finally peace out, even though that puts me in my nineties.
For reference, I wrote this letter to you on your twentieth birthday. I can’t explain why I decided that it was the perfect time to be morbid, and this will sound as though I was losing my mental faculties, but I assure you, I have not. I had a dream.
Mom and Dad spoke to me (and for the last time, I am of sound mind). They told me they loved me and that they would be seeing me soon and not to be scared.
They must still be working out the afterlife kinks because it scared the fuck out of me.
I double checked my will, making sure your mom and my children are well taken care of—not that your mom isn’t the best interior designer in the world, or you and your brothers aren’t successful in your own rights.
You’re young, sweet girl, but you carry the best of the Byrnes and O’Faolains in your DNA.
I’m proud of you, Bébhinn. There isn’t a father prouder of his daughter.
I hope this isn’t the last letter, but just in case, I’ll try to fit in most of what’s in my heart.
You will become a partner in Triskelion with your mom, but I also want you to take a seat on the O’Faolain board of trustees. Your brothers will always take care of you, but you need to have a voice in the family businesses.
All of them.
Especially Three Wolves Whiskey. I don’t know why that particular venture is my favorite. I do know my father would have loved it, and maybe deep down, I’m still trying to make him proud of me.
I don’t like your boyfriend. Get rid of him, or I will. If he were worth your time, I wouldn’t be able to get rid of him so easily—and it would be easy.
You need a man who isn’t easily scared. The boys and I can be intimidating, so don’t date anyone easily intimidated.
I hope there are many letters to follow this one. I hope I’m there to see you successful in business and love. I hope I’m still here to walk you down the aisle someday. I hope I’m here to break up the fights between your brothers and cousins—and there will be many.
I want to see you smile at me from across the room. I want to raise a glass of Three Wolves to toast your many successes.
I want desperately to be here to slay every one of your dragons, but we both know, as does your mother, though she refuses to discuss it, that I’m an old man now and only getting older.
I chose to marry your mother because she was and still is the absolute love of my life. I did fight her on it, but you know your mother. You get your stubbornness from her.
Your mother.
Christ and all his angels as my witness, I have never loved another person more. She made me a better man, son, father, and friend.
When I tell you that your mother’s strength, generosity, and love shine in you stronger than any other, there is no greater compliment.
I will be writing Row her own letter(s). I think I know her better than anyone else, including her sisters. When I do die, she will move on from her grief at her own pace, and nothing will change her itinerary.
She will let me go.
Eventually.
My letter will leave her no choice. I can assure you. She won’t read it for a goodly while. Don’t force it. And don’t worry about grief carrying either one of you away. That would be selfish to everyone else who is still living and loves you. Neither of my girls is selfish.
Heaven is real. My folks taught me that. I hope I don’t see you guys for a very long time, but I believe with everything in me that we will meet again. There is comfort in that.
As for you, I’ll make it simple. I’m dead, but you will never not have me. I am a part of you as you have been a part of me—from the moment your eyes looked at me from your sweet face…my eyes.
You may be the image of your mom, you may have her artistic flair, but you are MY daughter. My advice, hopes, and dreams for you are simple.
Never limit yourself.
You are capable of anything.
No dream is too big.
