Dear Dad,
I forgive you. I've waited entirely too long to tell you that.
I wanted to start with that in case you never get the chance to read any farther into this letter. That's the most important thing you need to know. You may not have internalized the fact that you've done something to warrant forgiveness. In fact, I doubt you truly understand how badly you've fucked up your relationship with your children. That's okay. I'm about to tell you all about it.
There was a time during my childhood where I remember you being a good dad. I have many happy memories of things we'd do together. You would come home from work and sit in your GE truck in the driveway for a bit and I would come out and sit on your lap. The AC was always so cold and you'd give me a piece of spearmint gum and feed me inappropriate lines to say to the CB radio dispatcher in my cute little kid voice. When you had the motorcycle I was the only one you'd take for rides. We'd stop for donuts or ice cream and ride around town for hours. I knew I could ask you for anything in the whole world and you would get it for me. I never really capitalized on that, but I always appreciated the option. I knew that you loved me best, because you saw so much of yourself in me.
When Mom left, you were nearly the perfect parent during that first year. You made breakfast every morning, and packed my lunch for me everyday. I was 16 then, and didn't really need you to do that, but you did it anyway. You let me do whatever I wanted, and for the first time in my life I had no chores or curfew. I was convinced you thought the divorce emotionally damaged me and as the selfish teenager I was, I exploited the hell out of it. When you finally lost your shit on me, it got ugly. I wasn't a bad kid. Not like some of the other fuck ups I knew, so when you kicked me out a week after graduation I couldn't understand how you justified it. The weeks leading up to my departure were brutal. Our screaming matches where awful. I can remember intentionally trying to provoke you into hitting me. I just needed you to lose control once and I would have destroyed you. You are right about how similar we are and I know that's the only reason you kept it together. You met your match with me. I am a mixture of mom's stubborn determination and intellect and your knack for pushing buttons. You never stood a chance.
After I moved out I tried to maintain contact. Even if I thought you were an asshole, you were still my Dad and I needed you to act like one. Other Dads wanted to help their little girls fix their cars or move into their first home. You acted like I was exploiting you for your usefulness, not maintaining a relationship. I eventually stopped asking for help and I never heard from you again.
When Dan told me Nana was dying I was sad for him. I had written her off as a miserable drunk and hadn't spoken to her for years but he had helped her up until the end of her life. When I found out how you manipulated her, I wasn't surprised so much as disgusted. How can you sleep at night knowing you hoodwinked an old lady (who wasn't even your own mother) and stole money from your children's pockets? A part of me isn't really shocked, though. After all, you and I, we are more alike than we are different, and I understand your ability to manipulate others for your own gain. I have been tempted to prey on the weak a time or two myself. The difference between you and I is a moral compass. I have one and you do not.
All these years, I've carried around a lot of anger. If there is any emotion we are good at it's rage. I want you to know that I am not angry with you anymore. I wanted you to be the kind of Dad you weren't and I'm sorry for that. You tried so hard to be the person you thought you should be and I want you to know how much I appreciate your efforts. I know the struggle of trying to stuff yourself into a mold you don't fit into and I'm sorry you had to go through that for so many years.
Growing up with you as my dad led to an adulthood with scars. I am riddled with daddy issues that I am constantly working on healing. I learned a lot of hard lessons watching you pathologically lie and proudly manipulate others like they were chess pieces in some game you played when you were bored. I am still trying to accept the fact that while we are similar I am not you, and I will never become you. I don't have to be the person you raised me to be, and I won't. I may be better at that chess game than you are but that doesn't mean I have to play it. I choose to be a better person than you could ever hope to be. I choose to be brutally honest instead of lying every single day.
Please don't think of this letter as an olive branch. I have lived long enough without a father to know that I don't really need one. I never got the chance to say good bye to you because I was too blind with rage. Now I realize that the only reason we feel anger is because we care in some way. I don't even care enough about you to be angry anymore. So, goodbye Dad. I hope your death is quick and painless and that you have someone left in your life to hold your hand as you drift away.
Sincerely,
The daughter you discarded
No comments:
Post a Comment