Wednesday, April 16, 2014
To my father..
I don’t even know how to start this. Do I say ‘Dear Father?’ This isn’t a formal letter just something I believe I need to write you. I have a different type of spiritual belief that by writing this, you’ll somehow read it.Where do I even begin. From the beginning? How I felt when I got the call you died? How I’ve grown as a person not “needing” you? But that’s just it. I did need you. I still do in some form.
After I became a mom I didn't understand your thought process. I can’t understand that knowing you had become a parent to two young children that turn to you for care and guidance, you just leave. I’ve talked with mom about this over and over again throughout the years to try to see your side. I still don’t. What I do understand is that you had a terrible addiction. An addiction that overpowered your life. But instead of wanting to get better for your children you decided to head down a different path.
All growing up I missed you. I wanted you to miraculously show up back in my life. It would make me so sad that I couldn’t remember you. My sister would have memories of you, very vague ones but still memories nonetheless. I was jealous. I would ask mom all the time to tell me about you. I would ask her questions like, “If dad were to ever come back and need a place to stay, would you let him stay with us?” Of course her response was always no, and for good reason. I would get so upset with her. I would cry and cry because she didn’t love you anymore.
One time I found a letter in my grandma’s room that you had sent to my sister. I was so happy I found it, but upset because my grandma kept it from me. I hurried through the letter anxious to read what you wrote. I was in tears by the time I was finished. There was not a single mention of me at all. The letter was only to my sister. You wrote how one day you and she would be united again. How with your new girlfriend and her daughter and my sister would eventually be a family. I felt forgotten. I put the letter back in the envelope and back on my grandma’s dresser. I went out to her and just cried on her lap for what seemed like hours. I was devastated. My own dad didn’t care to include me.
That night my mom said something to me that changed my mind about you forever. She asked me why I worried so much about you when you clearly didn’t worry half as much about me. I was stunned she was so bold with me. After thinking about it and really letting my mom’s words sink in to my mind, I realized she was right. Why did I want to be so much a part of your life when you didn’t care enough to be a part of mine?
At the time I didn’t realize what this would do to me mentally in the long run. I have you to blame for the future relationship struggles that I would have with men. The only man I felt I could truly trust, the only man I would be absolutely lost without was my grandpa. My mom eventually got in a relationship with my step dad and all growing up I defied him. I didn’t trust him. I felt like how every step child feels. “You’re not my dad, you can’t tell me what to do.” But it was so much more than that. I almost felt like I couldn’t get close to him because maybe he would eventually leave. Like you. I’m embarrassed to say that all though out high school I had boyfriends. I look back at how stupid that was of me. I couldn’t help it, I was boy crazy. I had a constant feeling of abandonment and by having a boyfriend it filled that void. Or at least I thought it did.
Through the years I would think of you and wonder where you were. What you were doing. I wondered if you were even still alive sometimes. I didn’t have the first clue on how to contact you or if I even wanted to. I thought so many times of what I would say to you. Would I even say anything at all? What would you say? Would you think that a simple “sorry” would cut it and make everything better? I would get asked all the time if I had a relationship with you or if I even knew you. I would always get so embarrassed to say that I had absolutely no idea who you even were. Where you were. Or why you left. I would make up lies about you because it always seemed better than the truth. If you asked me what some of those lies were now, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. That’s how dumb they were.
I finally got to the point in my life where I didn’t feel like I needed you. Didn't want you. I had my grandpa who took over the roll as my father figure. I had come to terms with the fact that I didn’t have a dad. I had a father but there is clearly a difference. December 14, 2010. I had just had my son that October. I was on maternity leave and that morning I got a call from a Coroner’s office in a surrounding county telling me that you had died. I was in shock. Why were they calling me of all people? They informed me I was next of kin, therefore I was responsible for your remains. Remains. That’s all you were. You were no longer my father you were just a body. The irony kills me to think that all my life I wanted you to take responsibility of me and in the end I became responsible for you.
I later learned from your brother that you were trying to turn your life around. You had a steady job for some time. You had been clean for a while. You even tried to make amends with your dad and apologize for all the wrong you had done. Your dad didn’t have a very forgiving heart when it came to you because he told you something along the lines of, “I don’t have a son by that name anymore” and closed the door in your face. How hard that must have been for you to hear. That you’re not wanted. That your efforts meant nothing. Funny huh? For the coming weeks the thought that you had really died tortured my heart. I was mad that I never got to tell you off. That I never had a memory with you. I never got to hug you. I never got to tell you how much pain you caused me. Never got to ask you why. Never got to tell you that you had a grandson. And now a granddaughter.
I wondered if you had even wanted to contact me or my sister. Then I thought of what my reaction would be. Would I have shut the door in your face like your dad? Or would I really have listened to whatever it is that you wanted or felt you needed to say? I struggle with the idea that this chapter of my life will never find closure. I will never get answers to the questions I want to ask so badly. I don’t know where your spirit is but wherever you may be, I want you to be at peace with your decisions. You can’t change what happened. I can only take this step by step and sort my feelings as they come. I can no longer be angry with how things played out. I don’t hate you. I forgive you. I realize now that you were in a dark place for the majority of your life. You’ve taught me some valuable life lessons and for that I thank you. So, until we meet..
Sincerely, Your daughter Nicole
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