A letter from your grieving son

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Photo courtesy of Gavin Mullin

Senior Gavin Mullin with his father, Rob Mullin, after his fifth grade graduation.

Gavin Mullin, Photographer

Dear dad,

It seems like it was only yesterday we were playing Resident Evil together, laughing hysterically as zombies ravished our brains. I still smell the fresh bread from our last family vacation on the Disney cruise, and I recall smiling as I pretended to comprehend your aphasia. I still shiver when I envision holding your cold hand as you exhaled your last breath. Now, here I am, leaving your name blank on all my college applications.

It is hard to believe you are gone. I still hear your tone-deaf cover of “Oompa Loompa” when I walk into the kitchen, but mere memories fail to fill the hole left in my heart. To tell you the truth, I am not okay. I wish I could tell you I am pursuing music education, and I wish you could visit colleges with me. I know you are proud of me no matter what I do or where I go.

On another note, I was crowned Homecoming King! Quite honestly, I do not care much for the title, but it did reinforce the fact that so many people love and support me. I made District Band again. Last year, you passed away just days after I made it, and I remember you smiling cheek-to-cheek when I told you I made it. That was the last time I ever saw you smile. Our marching season was phenomenal. The clarinets had a feature during a song, and they are performing for the Kansas Music Educators Association, which is a huge accomplishment. I am auditioning for Drum Corps International, which is a competitive marching band that tours the US over the entire summer. If you were here, I know you would be so proud of me for finally getting out of my comfort zone.  

The house has not been the same since you passed. Mom and I never seem to agree on the proper way to organize it. The dogs are being extremely annoying. Chewie is still as anxious as ever, and Bailie just sleeps on the couch all day. They miss going on walks with you. Neither mom nor I have the time to walk them anymore. I never realized how much you did to maintain the house, even while you were sick, and I never thanked you for all the work you did. I apologize for never thanking you.

Now, here I am, leaving your name blank on all my college applications.

— Gavin Mullin

Hollie is doing well. She loves the University of Kansas, and she has made some lifelong friends. She is also in a successful relationship. Please do not worry, you would love her boyfriend. He complements her well, and I think they will be together for a long time. Mom also has a boyfriend, but that is not so new. She started talking to him just weeks after your passing. He is nice and family-orientated, but even after all these months, I still refuse to be around him. Do not get me wrong, I still love mom and always will. You always balanced our family out, and I miss that.

It is not fair. I know death is a part of life, but why did you have to get cancer out of all the people on this Earth? You were a good person and everyone loved you, so why was it you who had to die? I am only in high school, why did you have to die so soon? When I walk across the stage at graduation, you will not be able to watch me. After graduation, I will have no father to run up to and hug. I should be able to come home to my father during college breaks, but I will not be able to. All of your hard work raising me, and you will have no reward because you died before you even got to see me grow up. Of course, I am not the only person who has lost a parent or gone through hardships, but knowing that does not make it easier. Life is not fair.

I also have a confession to make. Last year, I broke my 4.0 GPA. For weeks I cried, thinking I let you down. I thought I was a failure, a disappointment and a dumb kid. I saw everyone around me prevailing, and it is the worst feeling knowing my grief prohibited me from keeping up with everyone. People do not understand. They think if I just work a little harder or study a little more, I will magically snap back and be fine again. No matter how hard I study, I cannot magically wake up and be free of grief. No matter how much I work, I cannot bring you back.

Eventually, I realized the truth: you did not care about a number. You encouraged me to get a high GPA because you wanted me to push myself and reach my full potential. You encouraged me to pursue music and art because you knew it made me happy, and if it were not for your encouragement, I would not have found my true passions in life. I wish others could see how powerful our passions are. I play the clarinet because it gives me happiness, and I do photography because it reminds me of the beauty still left on this Earth. I do all of these because you were my father.

Even though I may never fully recover from grief, I will forever be grateful for having you as my dad. I have adopted your personality, and I could not have had a better role model in my life. You will forever inspire me, and you will continue to live in my heart until the day I die. Thank you for teaching me how to value the important things in life. I would not be the person I am today if it were not for your resilience, compassion and determination.

I love and miss you,

Your grieving son