Letters to Jason: You Should’ve Been A Dad.

On a day that celebrates fathers, I grieve you a little more than usual. You should’ve gotten the chance to be a dad. You would’ve been the best dad Jason. It was my dream to watch you be one. I’m so sorry I never got the chance to give that gift to you. I so badly wish I could’ve. I wish you could’ve made me a mom. We would’ve had the most beautiful children. We should’ve gotten that chance and that life. I wish we did. I wish you were here to build that life with me. You would’ve been the best dad. Not only the best dad, but the best partner in raising our kids. That’s something I will grieve for the rest of my life. Not getting that chance with you. It would’ve been the most beautiful thing in the world to watch you form into the dad you desired to be, the dad you wanted to be that was better than anything you ever had as a child. You would’ve been that, too. You were already that. I’m so sorry you didn’t get the chance to live out the dream of being an incredible father to our children. It’s simply not fair. None of this is fair. But that is one of the things that stings the most. This is not how it should be.

People say they miss you, I bet they do. I miss you too. Everything that you were and brought to my life. But some days, a lot of days, I miss who you were supposed to become and the life we were supposed to build. The plans. The dreams. The family. I wonder if those people who say they miss you think about you on days like today? I do. I don’t miss anything particular about what we did on father’s day, but I long to have know a version of you that you were supposed to become. A dad. My husband and partner in parenting. The soccer coach and ski instructor to our children. The dad who was playful and kind. The dad you did not have. The one you longed to become. The one you promised yourself you’d be to break the cycle. The life we prayed for. The life we begged God to provide. The life we cried over as cancer continued to take. The life we begged for, every night, holding hands. God please heal Jason, please let us have a family, please bring peace. Please save Jason. Please let us have children.

We did everything “right” by the timeline of the world. We dated, we got engaged we got married. And we didn’t get pregnant while not being married, because that is “wrong”, so says the world. You would’ve started trying for a family before our wedding, I know that about you. Then cancer. Cancer derailed it all. Made the chances slim and in between. I have my own regret, of not just saying screw it and trying on our honeymoon. I thought we had forever. We agreed on January of 2025. Then cancer came back. Cancer took. Cancer stole everything.

I long to know the version of you as a father. To know what our life should’ve been. To have seen what our children would look like. To see who eyes they would’ve gotten. We’d always joke about whose eyes they’d have, and I’d joke and say mine, even though our eyes are so similar and I loved your’s more than anything. Now, I’d give anything to have a little child with your eyes. A piece of you here. Even if that was hell another type of grief and life entirely. To have a living legacy of you. People say, oh you will have love again, a family again. But. But, what about what I wanted with you? What about the future I planned for when I met you. The memories we were supposed to make. The life we were supposed to build. We were supposed to have forever. You were supposed to be a dad.

You deserved so much more in this life time Jason. To hold your own baby in your arms. Watch me be pregnant. Be apart of a beautiful life with your kids. You were robbed from that. Me too. It breaks me every single day. We wanted it so badly. You especially wanted it so badly. We had so many dreams. So many plans. I will never forget sitting across the table from you near the end of your life, and your words “I just really wanted to be a dad” I will never forget how those words broke me. How badly I wish that that wasn’t the end. How badly I wish we could’ve gotten there. There are a lot of shitty dads out there. You wouldn’t have been one. You would’ve been the best. It is so damn unfair. You were supposed to be a dad.