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editorialrunaway · 6 years ago

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Letter to my Father

I have so many memories that revolve around you.

We used to read together all the time. On Saturday mornings, when I sat in your lap and you read from my favorite book of short stories. We even had reading races before bed, but you had to put an end to that when I started stuttering because my mind learned to move faster than my mouth could form the words of The Chronicles of Narnia. Mom wasn't very happy about that. You were there at every one of my games, no matter which sport it was. When I played soccer on the club team, you worked with me for hours at the park to help me be a better player. When I was on the church volleyball team (god, we were awful), you came and sat through every one of those games and watched us get crucified because our couches were more interested in having bible study than running through drills. My favorite was when we used to do puzzles together on the living room floor. We would race to see who could put their puzzle together the fastest. I always gave you the awful 90-piece Furby jigsaw that was way harder than it should have been because "you were the adult" and you could handle it. One thing I remember is that you never let me win. But you did encourage me to try harder every time I lost. You were also there to put me to bed and cuddle with me every night in the old house. I wonder if other dad's did that with their daughters.

I grew up thinking that you were the smartest person on earth and, when I grew up to be a lady, I would marry a man just like you.

All of those memories...until I didn't have them anymore.

I wanted to keep reading the same stories over and over because they were my favorites and I loved the way you told them. I didn't like it when you tried to encourage me to "just try something new". I didn't have anything resembling a work-ethic, so I never appreciated the hours you put into teaching me the best way to block a shot on the soccer field. I especially didn't appreciate when you tried to explain it to me using geometry. I loved to spend my Saturday's playing and I loved it when you played with me...until you tried to teach me fractions on the kitchen floor when I thought we were supposed to be coloring with those markers, instead. I always gave up too easily, which is why I think you started to give up on me.

There was one, cold fall afternoon after soccer practice where you saw a giant, analog clock on the playground I begged to climb on. Just for a few minutes. I asked you if we could have McDonald's for dinner and you said that we could. I just had to tell you what time it was using the playground clock. I think that was the first time that I felt my heart truly sink. I knew I didn't know what it said because I didn't want to pay attention when you tried to teach me earlier that week. I brought home a school worksheet meant to teach me how to tell time and the examples all showed clocks turned to the hour. When I proudly told you how easy the worksheet was, you tried to challenge me and make it harder. I just got mad and told you that I finished my homework and it wasn't fair for you to give me more to do. I couldn't read the playground clock and I didn't get McDonald's.

I know you were frustrated with me a lot when it came to school, especially as I got older and my bad habits started to cause me very real problems. You warned me they would and I didn't listen. But you still helped me with my math every night until I finished my homework. The evening ticked away until midnight, when I would still be sitting at the kitchen table with tear stained cheeks because you got so angry that you started yelling. Again. But you helped the next night, and the next. Until I stopped asking because I chose to blame you for yelling, instead of putting forth the effort to listen to your advice and take my time. My grades tanked, as expected, and now we had a new hurdle between us and another similarity faded away.

There was one morning in the 6th grade when I was really sick and had a high fever all week. It was so high that I was hallucinating, severely dehydrated, and had to sleep on the couch so I could be close to you and mom. You were leaving for work and I was having trouble sleeping when you asked me if I was on drugs. My grades were slipping and I wasn't acting like myself, so you asked if your 11 year old daughter was taking drugs. I still wonder if that conversation was real, simply because I can't fathom why you would have asked me that.

You scared me...and that's the last I remember of you for a while. Where did you go?

I sat with you every day on the way to school for 5 years and I can't remember a single thing that we talked about on those car rides. Did we talk? I know I wanted to sing along to the radio, but didn't we talk too? Surely we did...

It feels like you just faded away into the background and your routine, after that. You defended me when mom was yelling, even though we both knew your "maybe's" and "she could have's" were laughable. When mom caught me with that boy, or when she dragged me into your room because she found out that I'd cut my leg with an xacto, I can't remember a single thing you said. I was relieved at the time because one hysterical parent was already too much to handle. But then I needed you. Mom and I had been fighting again over the flavor of the week and I was so tired of the life I was living. I needed a hug. But when I put my arms around you, I felt absolutely nothing. You sighed when I tried to hold on too long and patted my back. Just once. That meant "let go".

I told myself, after that, that I deserved your rejection. I deserved it because I tested you too many times, or I didn't listen to you when you tried to warn me that my habits would make my life so much harder. I even learned to brush it off when Mom would come into my room at 2am and wake me up so she could ask me if I was bothered by the fact that you didn't love me like you should. I shut down and tried to block you out, which was so easy because I had my hands full trying to get around Mom.

I've let you down, Dad. I flunked out of college and that wasn't supposed to happen. I wasted tens of thousands of dollars in tuition, a lease on an apartment I never got to live in, and thousands more that I spent on fast food, drugs, and alcohol. I pitied myself and spiraled down to a place where I had no regard for how hard it was for you to give me that opportunity. I let Mom lie to you for months and when I got the chance to make things right, I wasted that opportunity, too.

I think that's when I started to avoid your eyes. After I moved home, I slunk through the house in places I knew you wouldn't be and I didn't think I deserved to speak to you. Even during that week when Mom took the kids out of town and we had the house to ourselves, our conversation was pleasant but so shallow. All of a sudden, there were so many rules to follow just to connect with you at all and I seriously wonder how many of those I made solely for myself. But when I fell farther still, and gave up going to school to get a job, you spoke out to support me. That made all the difference in the world. I'm not sure if you will ever understand, Dad, but that job saved my life and you supported me enough to make that happen. That job allowed me to get away from Mom's volatile temper, from your resentment, and from the darkness that was consuming me in that house.

The last time that you emerged from the background was for my 20th birthday. It was soon after I left and the wounds were still fresh but you sent me an email to wish me a happy day and to let me know I was on your mind.

I put all of my hope into that email. I prayed, do you understand? I PRAYED! I prayed that somehow you understood why I made the choice I made.

I prayed that somewhere in your two dimensional heart you still loved me enough to face me as an adult and try to heal our splintered relationship. One step at a time. I thought that I could earn your respect if I took responsibility for myself and did whatever it took to be accountable. I was wrong.

Today, you treat me like a child who deserves to be punished. Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to, the things I had to do, so I could retain my independence and stand on my own with my head held high? I have learned the meaning of exhaustion, of panic, of PURE DESPERATION! I have stood, on my own two feet, for days at a time just to keep a roof over my head. I have laid exposed, shamed and scared in strange places because the trade off was better than getting on my knees and admitting to failure. I built myself up from absolutely NOTHING into a woman that YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF! I have survived. I have conquered. I have THRIVED because I saw value in healing my broken mind, body, and soul. For once, I didn't give up! I made my choice, however reckless and destructive, but I stuck to it and I committed. I got through each grueling day by remembering what YOU TAUGHT ME. I persevered and I worked damn hard to become a woman worthy of respect and worthy of being loved.

But now you have nothing to say. Your phone number isn't even in my phone.

Dad, I don't hate you. I could never hate you because I know that our relationship is a product of who I am. I accept that, as an adult. I still dread the thought of learning something new, I still re-read my favorite books over and over again, and I still have to muscle through the immense urge to give up when life throws me a curve ball. But I was a CHILD. You were the adult and YOU LET ME DOWN!! Why didn't you adapt? Why didn't you just TALK TO ME?! I was so ashamed of who I was becoming that I thought I had to hide myself from my own family and

YOU. DID. NOTHING!!

It's taken me years to come to terms with the reality that I am so hurt and angry with you. I don't know if I'll ever get the closure I need with you but I'm determined to conquer this shame with, or without, your courtesy. Still, everything is about to change...

Dad, I'm getting married. He shares your name but he is not a man like you, at all. This man will raise me up when I am falling, celebrate with me when I succeed, and will always hold me when I'm suffering.

He's restored my faith that I am worthy of love and has slowly helped to relieve me of the hideous stain of your shame.

It's because of him that I'm beginning to truly love myself, the way you never could. I pray that you can, one day see him as your son and understand that things have changed in ways I never expected.

I am new. I am prepared.

But I can't change your decision to focus on previous mistakes.

After I left, you found a box of letters with similar tones to this one. The letters, I think you know, you were never meant to find. The one I addressed to you had just one line: a passive aggressive apology for never living up to expectations.

That sentiment is, both, true and untrue.

I accept that I will never be enough for you, if you choose to remain stagnant. But never again will I apologize for sustaining the person I've always been.

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