30 Days of Truth: Day 14

Day 14 — A hero that has let you down. (letter)

Dear Dad,

I’ve written you many anger letters in the past. You know, the kinds of letters therapists have you write only for the purpose of getting all of your angry emotions out of your system, but are never supposed to send? Only, I’ve never had a problem actually giving those letters to you. I have usually been pretty up front with the many ways you’ve disappointed me. This letter, however, isn’t written out of anger. It’s written out of acceptance and sadness.

I just wanted to let you know that I am extremely sad when I go to weddings and see the bride dancing with her father. When I hear my friends tell wonderful stories about the great relationships they have with their fathers, I feel happy for them, but selfishly sad for myself because I don’t have that special father-daughter relationship that is so important to a girl. And boy does it explain a lot about me.

There are a few very early years that I remember you fondly. They all happened before I was 5. I remember this one day in particular when we made a fort out of a refrigerator box and watched the Little Rascals all afternoon while sitting in it. I remember when you would take me fishing, and we’d go to the beach and Mt. Trashmore and fly kites. And Mom tells me you used to paint my fingernails.

Those days were short-lived though and soon replaced with watching you get drunk and feel sorry for yourself every weekend. Or Matthew and I sat and played second to whatever girlfriend you had at the time. It was as if we were pebbles in your shoe, obstructing your pathway to selfishness. And eventually you became this person I do not even know anymore. Where is the wonderful father I remember as a girl? The smart, funny, loving man I seem to remember? One of my old therapists told me I suffered from “magical thinking” when it came to you. Usually when I do speak to you on the phone, it’s like I’m talking to a stranger that I’m making small talk with (Those who know me, know how much I hate small talk). But every once in a while I hear hints of the man I remember in your voice, and I get excited that he’s back. But he never is. I used to be so angry about it. But now I’ve just accepted that I just don’t have that father-figure-type of a man in my life, and nothing will ever change that. It’s like I’ve grieved the loss of a father.

Although I know you love me and never meant to hurt me this way, you can’t turn back time, and there are some things that just can’t be fixed. I forgive you and accept you, but I don’t see a way we can ever have that kind of relationship. We can’t just—poof—have a Hallmark father-daughter relationship after everything. It would take a lot of time and patience, and we’ve never had the opportunity to work on it, and I’m not sure we ever will.

So, I guess I will continue to… live vicariously through my friends who do have those types of fathers; watch the man I love be the kind of father to his daughter that every girl deserves; and relish the moments when I receive the rare gift of a father-type act of affection displayed to me whether it be from you, my stepfather, or a complete stranger.

I do love you, and I do miss you, the man I remember from a long time ago.

Love,

Keri

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