My father passed away in a nursing home on a September day. I never remembered him telling me he loved me. Upon hearing his death, I didn't feel the need to cry. I struggled with my lack of strong feelings over his passing, knowing it was not healthy for me to avoid sadness. On Christmas Day of the year, I was reflecting on as many good memories of my father as I could. I decided to work out my feelings, so I sat down and wrote my father a letter. Dear Daddy, I remember something today. I remember when I was 3 years old, mom carried me right before bedtime and you sang "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep" to me, and I remember your voice like it was just yesterday. I remember the warmth of you lying next to me and how special I felt at that moment. Then my mom carried me off to my own bed to tuck me in. I remember times when I could sit out on the porch with you and watch an approaching thunderstorm, and you would tell me the scientific facts behind lightning and thunder. I thought you knew everything. I remember you taking my two brothers and me on trips to a stream out in the country on summer days. We would walk along the stream, picking wildflowers to take home to mother. I want to thank you for giving me an appreciation of nature and science and of God's beautiful creation, Earth. I want to thank you for making us take part in "family worship" every evening after dinner. I remember that Bible stories and the Golden Rule on how to treat others, and I learnt how to appreciate music in my life from the hymns we sang. I also learnt to harmonize with my sisters. And most of all, I want to forgive you. I forgive you for not being able to tell me that I was a special girl and that you loved me. I longed for your spoken affection. But I realize something in your own upbringing would not allow you to express your feelings verbally . I realize that you did the best that you could with what you knew. I signed the letter and put it into my wooden box to join many other cards and letters from my family and loved ones that I cherished. But somehow, it had not brought any relief I desired. On New Year's Eve, I remember the letter to my father. I took it outside to the yard. Then I built a fire and dropped it into the flame and watched it burn. As I thanked my father for giving me life, the tears came. I released all the grief and whispered, "you were my father... and I love you." The writer spent much happy time doing memorable things with father EXCEPT that   _  .
father sang songs for her before bedtime father taught her nature, science, and history father took her on trips in nature father read Bible stories for her