Another guest blog…this one from Kara, the youngest of Michael’s children. Alcoholism is a long complex journey, but there is often lots of good mixed into the hard. In this blog, Kara remembers the good times with her Dad.

My Dear Dad

By Kara Hunter

I sit here on my porch, listening to Tom Petty in my dad’s honor, staring at this blank page wondering how I put my feelings into words. How do you summarize a person like my dad? How do you possibly formulate something that will show the world who he was? 

During the last few years of his life, my dad and I weren’t really speaking. Alcohol had taken the dad I knew, and it had turned him into someone I didn’t recognize. And because of that, there are so many things left unsaid. I’d like to use this opportunity to share some of them here.

Dear Dad,

Remember when we went to Disney? This is one of my earliest memories. I’m younger than the other kids, so you were my buddy while they rode the ‘big kid’ rides. One of the only rides I was tall enough for was the Dumbo ride, and you kept taking me back to it to ride in circles over and over. You probably were so sick of that ride, but I loved it so you loved it too. 

During that trip, we met all the Disney characters, and that autograph book was one of my most prized possessions. While the other kids thought it was a little lame, you made me feel so special during that trip, holding my hand and carrying me on your shoulders through the park.

Dear Dad,

I went to Barnes and Noble the other day – it looked and smelled like childhood. I remember the days we’d go as a family, each scattering into our separate sections. It felt like I grew up there. I walked through the children’s section, where you’d help me reach the book I wanted to read. I walked through the young adult section, where I graduated to once I got a little older. I thumbed through the books on WWII, knowing that’s the section you’d beeline to – this is further evidenced by the last gift you ever gave me being a book on WWII. I finished it a few weeks ago, I wish I had told you.

I remember pulling book after book off the shelves to have you & mom tell me that was too many. Once we whittled it down, we’d take our newfound purchases and go home, fighting over the best blankets (my favorite was always the bear comforter) as we put on classic rock for a family reading night on the couch. Each of us would have our own books, and we’d read for hours in each other’s company. It instilled a love of reading that we all still carry today.

This time I was there for a different section – the grief section. I spent 30 minutes sorting through books, trying to find one that could possibly encapsulate what I was feeling. When I sent a photo of my purchase to our family group text, I knew you were guiding us – Liane told me she had just bought the same one.

Dear Dad,

When you and mom got divorced, I was so scared. Our family was fracturing, and we had seen so many other families go through similar things. Before the divorce, you were working so much that my time with you was fleeting. I was so worried that with the divorce, I’d lose you completely.

But instead, you bought a house only a few streets down. I wasn’t old enough to drive yet, and you told me you wanted to make sure you got a house that I could walk to. You promised me that you wouldn’t be absent, and our relationship grew during this period. During our weekends with you, you made sure we knew that we were the priority. It felt like we were the only thing that mattered.

You got me the dog I had always wanted – a miniature chihuahua that I promptly named Killer, much to the dismay of most of our family. You loved that dog, going out of your way to buy her a full cup of chili at Wendy’s (which was pretty much the size of her entire body) then letting her fall asleep on your chest. 

During this time, I discovered a love for college football after we toured USC together, and we spent countless hours by the pool or on the couch watching games. You taught me all about the game – what a first down was, how the rankings worked, and that the yellow line on the screen wasn’t actually on the field. Half the time I’d fall asleep, but you’d let me nap next to you then fill me in on what happened when I woke up. 

Rosa and Mikey moved in, and while many families tend to feel resentment during these periods, you worked hard to make sure each of us felt valued. Much to Mikey’s disappointment, you always made sure Christmas celebrations waited until after we came from Mom’s house so we could celebrate as a family. Your care and devotion during this time made sure that I didn’t feel like I had lost my family, but instead I now had two. 

Dear Dad,

Remember when you surprised me for my 16th birthday? I desperately wanted an Acura TSX. When we went car shopping, they asked if I wanted a spoiler. You didn’t realize what that was, so you responded “yes, she’s very spoiled”. And you know what? You were right.

You told me the Acura was too expensive, and I should keep looking. But on my 16th birthday, you told me on the way to Kani House that we needed to make a detour. A long detour, from Woodstock to Windy Hill. There, we pulled into the Acura dealership and you said there was a used Acura you wanted me to look at – “something older, a bit more in our price range”.

I walked around the corner in the showroom and there it was – you had bought my dream car. It was covered in balloons, and as I walked up my friends jumped out of the car. You had arranged for them to be there to surprise me. 

Despite me being the third kid, you always made sure to make these monumental moments special. You never wanted me to feel like I wasn’t celebrated in the same way as the other kids. You certainly did spoil me, but you also made sure to do it in a way where I felt special and loved. Thank you for that.

Dear Dad,

Thank you for introducing me to Clemson. In my high school graduation letter, you told me how proud you were of me and how excited you were that I’d be at Clemson (so much so that you underlined excited three times). In this same letter, you reminded me that there is nothing more important than hard work in achieving success. This is something I continue to carry with me now.

I treasured all the times we got to share together at our alma mater – from when I was a child tagging along with you & mom, to when we toured campus together as I debated colleges, to seeing your pride when you came to parent’s weekend every year, to you flipping my ring at graduation as I officially joined you as a Clemson alumni. 

It was while I was in college that you started to slip away from me. But being able to walk past Tiger Town Tavern where you and mom met, driving past your old apartment, and taking classes in Sirrine Hall, where you had also spent so much time, helped me feel closer to you. 

Dear Dad,

Thank you for coming to visit me in San Francisco. Our relationship was already pretty damaged by this point from the alcoholism, so I was so nervous about you coming. I remember being filled with anxiety – what if you came to visit and went off the rails? 

But that visit was such a gift, and I’ll forever treasure it. I planned the weekend meticulously, hoping to do all your favorite things. I loved seeing your excitement about touring the kitchen in the Mission during our food tour. I’ll never forget the way pride radiated from your face when I took you on a tour of the Williams Sonoma office. We visited the planetarium in the California Academy of Sciences, and I saw your passion reignite around the stars and faraway galaxies. We took a tour of the bay, and being back on a boat with you brought me back to childhood days on the lake.

I saw how hard you worked during that trip to show up for me. You tried to prove to me that we could still have a relationship, that you were okay. With that, you gave me amazing memories to hold onto.

Dear Dad,

Thank you for trying so hard to win against this powerful disease. I know you never stopped trying – you always found a way to get messages through to us, and one of your few final possessions was a Bible.

Thank you for always making me feel special and loved. Thank you for giving me these memories and so, so many more – the countless times we went to Longhorns for a steak followed by the latest action movie, the days on the boat in Miami sailing to the Keys, the memories in Clayton, the Braves games, the whitewater rafting, the lakehouse, the thousands and thousands of boiled peanuts. 

Thank you for the unwavering pride and love you showed me. Thank you for instilling your values in me – hard work, a love for travel, a fascination with history, an appreciation for a good back porch, and a neverending thirst for knowledge. Thank you for making me who I am today.

Dear Dad, 

I love you. I want you to know that, despite everything, my love for you never waivered. I thought of you every day, hoping we could rebuild the relationship we used to have. I feel so lucky to have had you as my dad, my only wish is that I could’ve had you for longer. 

Love always,

Your Peanut