Letters To An Absent Parent

I really wish things were different. Underneath it all, you are a sweet man, but that does not excuse the things you have done. It never will, and I don’t believe I can ever forgive you.

Do you remember that one time you were drunk? (Yes, I know that there is a multitude of them, but bear with me.) I was seven, dad, and I saw you burst into the trailer and start to choke my mother. How was I supposed to react to that? That scared me more than you’ll ever know.

Do you remember that project I did in second grade? I wrote something along the lines of, “I don’t think my daddy loves me at all.” You must have read it. I know you did. Eight years old, dad. I was reaching out to you then, but you didn’t want to make the effort to reach back. You ran away, back to your alcohol.

Do you remember when I was thirteen? Fourteen? Those were some tough years, dad, and I really could have used your help.

Do you remember last year? You promised you would go to my award ceremony. I was so proud of myself, I worked hard to get that GPA. But when I went up to the stage to get my award, I realized that you weren’t there. You were home drinking. I sat back down and feigned happiness towards my friends. My mom had to witness me breaking down. That was your fault.

You are the reason I avoid all male contact, I’m so scared of them. I don’t want to be brought down to nothing, the way you have torn my mother apart. She is everything to me, and when she cries because you cursed at her, or you cut her down, I lose it. You don’t know how to love anything but your alcohol.

But, if you care to know, I’m finally starting to come to terms with myself. I’m beginning to think that I’m pretty and worthy of happiness. I’ve come to terms with my bisexuality. It’s been challenging, but the suicidal thoughts are going away. Sometimes, I wish I could talk to you when you’re sober.

I’m trying hard to understand and forgive you. But I look at other fathers loving their daughters and I can’t handle it. You were physically there, dad. It surely couldn’t have been that difficult to talk to me.

You weren’t there, dad, and it hurts so much.

-Your daughter.

You never cared about me. Ever. When you were forced to accept me as you child via Paternity test you didn’t care. You didn’t even dare to look at me in the office I was told.  Even that one year when Mom tried desprately for my sake to get you to be apart of my life you didn’t care. And thanks to you my 8th birthday now will be my most hated. Because you had to be there. Not because you wanted to. But because you were to told too.

By the way when you saw me in Krogers that day and whispered to me “You are getting a little fat.”. I wish I had said “Yeah well you are looking majorly old, when’s the funeral?” I was 12 for Christ’s sake’s, way to ruin a girl’s image. Also Remember when Mom called you to tell you my Step Father, My REAL Father died, and the first you said “How did you get my number?”, well you know what, Fuck you too buddy.

And when I leave this miserable state for a new Life, a new chance, don’t expect me to come see. Even though I know you are dying, it will probably be the last time before you die(FYI: I am not coming to your funeral.). I don’t care. Why should I care about you when you are dying and dead when you didn’t care about me when I was living? It is no wonder my Half sibling’s turned out to be druggie’s. Even one you gave up for adoption turned out the same. I just pray you die before you corrupt my sister’s baby further you miserable sack of shit.

Now  to write the Letter to someone who deserves it.

Dear Absent Father,

It has been really hard since you passed away. Each day is a challenge and I know Mom is suffering. But we are trying. We are Moving out of state now. Mom’s friend set us up to have a buisness, I think she is finally able to let go now, even though it’s a little harder with Grandma dying. By the way is she ok? Please watch over her for me.

I wish you had got the chance to teach me how to drive in your Police Cruiser. Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared of driving if you had. But I guess after dealing with all you did your body just couldn’t take it anymore. I wish you wouldn’t have hidden it from us. We would have done much more if only we had known. I would have told you so much more if only I had known.

Even though I only had you for a few year’s, you were the best thing I could have ever had. I wish I had told you that, and gave you that last hug before you went to the hospital, it is one of my biggest regrets. I’m sorry Dad, I love you.

I’ve spent all of the last ten years trying to figure out why exactly you left Dad and me. Why you decided to just disappear and go to Texas. I’m sure Paul is nice, but Dad is too. He’s always been there for me, through everything. He’s strong, kind, and loyal to those he loves. I just never understood. I know that feelings change and things happen, but all I can do is see this through the eyes of eight year old me. The youngin who just lost her mother to a man in Texas with no explaination. For years I blamed myself, thinking that maybe it wasn’t dad, but it was me. Maybe I was a bad kid. Maybe I was too bothersome, or maybe I never hugged you enough, or told you that I love you enough. I don’t think I’ll ever come to terms with it. I’ll never understand. 

I’m trying not to hold a grudge. But it’s hard. I’m glad you’re happy, but Dad’s been a mess since. He’s lonely, mom. He’s fucking lonely. He has no friends here, Gayle was a complete waste of time. I’m not sure he’s had anyone except family since Gayle. For fuck’s sake, when I was in Oregon for two months, the first two weeks Dad couldn’t sleep. He was completely alone. I can’t help but feel that if you stayed with us and tried he wouldn’t have been. 

I love you to death, mom, but I don’t like you at all. I hope Paul was worth it. I really do. Because that’s the only way I can forgive you for leaving us. 

You’ll never see the letter. But it was nice to get it out. If you do find it, well, I guess I’ll be talking to you later about it. Take care and be safe.

Love, 
  Your daughter. 

If your posts doesn’t show up, I apologize on behalf of tumblr’s foolishness.

I’ve always known you were absent. I did not know that your absence was affecting me so much, though, until recently: My counselor told me that I’m feeling deep resentment towards my very best friend because of what you did, because you left me/us. Not what he did.

Thanks. So much. You’re making a complete stranger suffer for no good reason. In addition to your family.

I miss you so much. My deadlove. I hate heroin for what she did, I hate your mother for what she didn’t. And sometimes I hate myself because I wasn’t strong enough to help you to get out of here …

I know that you weren’t strong enough, I know this is not your fault. You know I loved you too much, not like a friend, I know you did too, in a way. Because we were more than friends. But you don’t know how it feels to loose your best friend and your love, I know it, you were these both person for me.

I remember little things sometimes : Lighting up a cigarette together, spending time on the telephone, and also all the bad sides of heroin with the different crisis.

But I still love you, and I remember when you said “You are strong Little Sister”. You didn’t see me with bulimia and cutting after you passed, but I forgive you.

It’s been three years now, and now, I accepted, I can let you go.

With all my love.

Your Little Sister. <3

I love you so much even though you’re never there. You never come to any of my shows. You never get to see what I work so hard for. You never get to see every amazing victory or even every heart breaking defeat. You do tell me to do what I want and I could’nt be more greatful but a little support isn’t too much to ask right? I want to make some good memories before I go off into this world and make my other dreams come true. I don’t have many good ones of you. All I have are memories of every punch, slap, insult, and the tears I have shed over you. Your my mother and I can’t bring myself to hate you but I don’t like you either, but I do love you, and I always will. I know i’m not the perfect girly-girl you always wanted, but your stuck with me and I know I should tell you all this sooner, but if things don’t change, once I leave this place, I probably won’t be coming back, ever …

Love forever and always in eternity,

Your Daughter

You’ve both left me in some way.

One of you psysically, the other in every way but.

I keep forgiving you both, thinking maybe, just maybe you’ll find me worth it enough to change. You never do.

Mom, you won’t even say sorry. Even when I ask you too. You just laugh and yell at me. Dad, you just run away without saying goodbye. Even when I started cutting. Even when I couldn’t sleep for weeks because my mind wouldn’t stop. Even when I broke down. You never stopped and wondered “Is she okay? Is it because of me? Did I help her do this?”  

But maybe… I’ve found a new family. Maybe I can make it through this hell without you both. The pain will always haunt me… but maybe these people, will help me. Maybe…

I used to love you, like some sort of long-distance kind of parent that I never saw before in my life, but the pain, heartache and hope that you would come home was nothing but wasted energy.

You promised to come to me and Nick’s graduation ceremonies. You promised to come to my choir concerts and to hear my first solo. You promised a lot of things. All I remember is running up and down the audience seats, looking for if you came late and picked an open seat.

I actually got worried when you stopped sending the presents six years ago. Then, when I was at school and Morgan asked about you, I found your website. I’ll never understand how you just threw away three kids to just start up again. Send the kids my way: I’ll help them through the pain, since that’s the only thing you ever taught me.

Every time I even attempt to think about you, the worst headaches attack. Then I cry, and I can’t breathe thanks to your genetics. Also on that genes topic, I am made fun of every fucking day for my nose being too big, my teeth all crooked, my “Napoleon’s Syndrome,” and the fact that because you were never there, I wasn’t able to get over my fear of men/relationships. So, because of you, I’ll probably never have children, have someone who loves me, or be able to fully trust someone.

I really, really hate you. You’re a goddamn, fucking liar and a bastard. I hate you.

Dear Absent Father, 

In 24 years, you never made the effort to say a word to me or my mother. I had to find you through contacting a phone number I found online that ended up being your ex wife’s number. 

Where were you when my mother and I were homeless? When we were lucky to have a motel roof over our heads and a cup of ramen noodles? Where the fuck have you been for 24 years?

You don’t know I grew up with 5 different father figures, all of which abused me and my mother mentally and physically. You don’t know that there are parts of my early teens that I don’t remember, when my mother and I were living with a child molester. You don’t know that my mother and I never had a stable home, and ended up going from motel to motel and being basically homeless in a bad part of LA when she was married to her last husband. You have no clue that I am transgender, that I’m uncomfortable in my own body, or how far I’m planning on going with my transition. You don’t even know the most basic things about me; my favorite color, my hobbies, my life ambitions and goals, nothing. 

I understand you’re broke, and that you probably didn’t like the idea of paying child support, but when you make the decision to have a child, don’t punish that child and their mother. Responsibilities are responsibilities, regardless of how much money you have. That’s your problem.

And now that I have initiated contact, you still haven’t made the effort to talk to me by phone, letter or even by facebook. After the DNA test comes back positive like we both know it will, are you even going to make the effort? I have two half-siblings; your other children; that want to know me, and even your sister has spoken to me. Why not you?

Its been almost two weeks since this has begun, and it takes a long time to fix 24 years of hurting and emotional pain. When will you even try? I don’t want money. I just want the simplicity of knowing who I am and where I came from. I just want basic human things. 

When I told my mother about contacting you, she told me to be careful, to not get hurt. If you don’t even want to say a word to me after all I went through to find you; after all I went through because you weren’t there; then fuck you. I believe these past 24 years have been a big enough “fuck you” from you for me to be justified in saying that. 

Its not enough I have gender identity issues, I just want to know who I am. And you’re the answer. Don’t run away again. 

You were taken from us due to a heart problem when I was around 2 years old, leaving my mother to raise me and my two brothers, who were both 1 at the time, by herself. My uncles, your brothers, didn’t really have anything to do with us, though we don’t understand why.

Though I never really got to know you, your absence has definitely made an impact on me. When I was in dancing class when I was little, we did a little recital where we were dancing around in little tutus singing about how much we loved our daddies, and, because I didn’t have a father and all the other girls in my class did, they got a friend of my teacher’s to play my dad. We had to go and sit on their laps and give them a big kiss on the cheek, and I remember that it all seemed like such a strange affair because he wasn’t my father. 

Sometimes I wonder what our lives would’ve been like if you would’ve never died, or maybe not even had that heart problem. You were on disability because of it, and if you didn’t have it, you could’ve worked, taking off a great deal of the strain that was put on my mom after you died. She’s a school teacher, and they don’t make alot of money, but we made it by pretty good, all things considered. She’s on a lot of medication because of stress and high blood pressure, but she’s doing ok. She misses you the most, though…she gets really depressed during holidays and valentines day and yall’s anniversary because she said it’s just not the same without you here. Maybe things would’ve been better for her if you were still here…

I really wish I could’ve gotten to know you. We all miss you, and we can’t wait to see you again one day. 

I finally figured it out. Your childhood hurt so much, that you couldn’t let me have mine. Mental abuse doesn’t show, and apparently I dealt with it fine, because every single therapist I’ve seen says that I’m “well adjusted”. Those visits were your fault. I blame you. By the way, thanks for not paying for any of them, despite the court order. Oh and thanks for all the support during the 2 1/2 years I’ve been chronically ill. It really helps to get a call from angry you after being in the hospital for observation. Thanks for not paying for your share of those too. 

I pity you. You don’t know love. They say the opposite of love is hate, but it really is indifference. I’m jealous of your capability to harness that emotion. I’m bitter, cynical. Too pessimistic for someone of my age. It honestly has helped my art though, so I thank you. 

You said you wouldn’t bother me anymore, so what’s this? 3 voicemails? A forwarded e-mail (even though you never before replied to one of my personal e-mails)? I can deal with that; laugh it off. I draw the line at Facebook stalking me. 

I hope you can enjoy your life, because I can sure enjoy mine.

only recently have actually left. You’ve been near me for 13 years, yet you have never been there. I remember the day you told my sister and I you were leaving. You told us the day after you had moved out. My older brothers don’t care. Heck, even my sister doesn’t, but I did. I still do. You were my everything. The parent who I talked to. The parent that understood me. The parent who I asked for help. Do you know how it feels to be 13, in the hospital, be asked if you wanted to go to surgery, look around and not have your father there? I do. You had left the country with all your money. You came back after all your money was gone. I’m only good to you when you have nothing left. Now your mother is sick. Not my grandmother, your mother; the mother who hates my mother. I haven’t spoken to you in 2 years. I finally turned 18. You didn’t even call me. You called my sister, asking her to pass on the message. Do you hate me because I am the only one who wants you to face your actions. I should be the one to hate you. I should loathe you with every fiber in my being, scream at you at the top of my lungs. I can’t. Do you hear me? I can’t. All you have given me is disgust in myself, shame in myself, fear of my self. I can’t have a normal relationship, even with people who are right here. My friends. I’m afraid that everything I have and want will leave and disappoint me, like you did. Even knowing all this, I still love you. My heart hopes that you’ll finally turn around and say, “I’m sorry.” Oh how I year to hear those words. All the problems I have now can all be traced back to you. Even before you and my mother divorced. You were a horrible husband. A horrible father. You know what else you are? You are my dad. The only one I will ever have. I am stuck with you. Dad.

She’s pregnant. What do I do?

I know you didn’t want to leave us, I know you fought hard to stay alive but your body just couldn’t handle it anymore. Fate dealt us all a bad hand in life it seems… It’s been 8 years now since your passing, though it seems longer. Things have been hard, we haven’t lived in our own house since the day you collapsed 9 years ago, neither me nor mom can bare to go back in there so it has been sitting vacant for all these years, just like the last day you spent in it.

I haven’t been the girl I promised you I’d be, and I’m sorry for that… I was a menace to my mother and my family since your passing, breaking walls, screaming, and harming myself. It got to the point where one day, I ended up getting a concussion from banging my head into a concrete wall and messing my head up so bad that for a few months, I was blind in my right eye. I wanted you back, but I knew it was impossible. Things got worse, and a few years later, I really needed you. I had gotten very sick, and mom was terrified that she was going to lose someone else she cried almost every day. I don’t know how she managed threw all these tough years as sane as she is, I know I wasn’t able…

Things have gotten tough again these last few years. My mind is broken, and over the past 4 years I’ve nearly joined you on a couple of occasions. I know that each time was stupid, but at the time I wanted an escape from a lot of things that were happening stemming from that sad day… I finally realized something though, all the sadness I was feeling would just be put onto someone else, and I don’t think mommy could handle it herself. She tried so hard to keep things normal, even threw all the hardships, and I just made everything harder.

Daddy, would you forgive me? Would you be proud of me? I’ve grown up a lot now, I’ve gotten my act together now, and we are fully back on our feet. I graduated high school a few months ago, and even though my high school wasn’t a normal one, I finished and have my diploma. Would you be proud of that? I wonder what you would have said on my 18TH birthday when I was with friends I had made who actually cared about me… I wonder what you would have said when I shattered my hand on the classroom wall after someone thought it was funny to make fun of mom for working as hard as she is. What would you say about all the ups and downs we’ve had, how would you have handled the problems that have arisen in these past few years…

It saddens me to know that you weren’t here for them, or for all the things that are to come, but I know you’re looking down on us, and I know you’re always here threw everything. I love you daddy I really do, and I hope you know that even though sometimes I yell and cuss about you not being here and about everything that’s happened, that I will always, and forever, love you. 

Love your daughter. 

I don’t have much to say to you after the past.  I don’t want to re-live it, because I have accepted you’ll never be there, and I am now okay with that.  I am proud of who I am today, and I wouldn’t give it up for you, ever.  My mom made it by without you, and I look up to her for that.  She fell in love with someone different, and better.  He was more of a dad then you’ll ever be able to, no matter what you do.  All I have to say to you now, is “You suck.”  That is all. 

Thanks for NOT being there.  I guess.

You loved me like I was your own daughter. I never appreciated it until you died, then our lives fell apart. 
I miss you so much, dad. I’m sorry. 

Do you realize just how much of a mess you have created?

You could have protected me from them. Twice, “Dad”. Twice. They proved to me just how worthless I am. Thanks for that.

I always thought that you would grow out of the “rockstar” mentality and come get me. I always wondered when you’d care about me. When was the last time you saw me? 17 years ago. 

I took ballet when I was younger. Granted, I never was that great at it, but I danced my heart out. I always wondered if maybe this Christmas or this birthday, I’d be able to dance my routine for you. Then, I grew up a little. I took Karate instead. I tried to learn how to defend myself and be strong. I went to 5 tournaments and scored 1st place in 2 divisions. Then, I tried my hand in music. Like you, dad. I tried learning to play the guitar and I took band. I even sang in front of people a few times. To no avail.

I wanted to make you love me. I wanted to be like you. I sang my heart out in hopes that it would reach your ears one day. Then I just stopped singing.

I found a boyfriend. Great guy- a year and a few months of being “put in my place” showed me that. After him, there were drugs. How painkillers could truly numb the pain of heartache, I’ll never know, but they did. Until they didn’t become enough- I had to take more and more, and then I got sick. I met another boy who “showed me my place” and took advantage of me. “A girl with daddy issues can get over it one way or another.”

So, I bear emotional scars as well as physical. What if you could have prevented that? What if you could have just been the real father-figure I needed? 

Two months ago, I deemed my life was no longer worth living. It came at a weird time. I had just been in a car accident, but life was looking up. There was a sweet guy who was doting on me and taking care of me, and my friends were closer to me than ever. Just something made me not care that Friday night. I was at a football game and all I saw were fathers, everywhere. Fathers loving their kids, playing with their kids, and even disciplining their kids.. So, that night, I took two too many pills.

I landed myself in the hospital and you know what happened? Mom cried. She sobbed and was so afraid for me. She loves me more than anyone ever could. She had to push me through all those times of questioning. She had to stay strong for me.

Oh, btw, the man who took your place isn’t a man either. He’s an angry, bitter, and destructive man. At 17 years old, I was forced out of the house. I can’t even run to you, dad. I don’t even know where you are. I don’t even know if you know I exist anymore. 

I don’t even know if I exist anymore.

I wish to God that I could really tell you just what it feels like to be trapped with you. There aren’t words. And the worst part is, you’re so fucking aware of what both of you have been doing to me over the last few years. You both know that everything you’ve told me since I can remember and probably before has made me into this scared, self-depricating punching bag that’s left herself open for anyone that wants to take a swing. And I know that that’s the path that my baby bro’s headed down with the both of you. I know that he’s going to become a slave and a therapist and a parent to you both—if he’s lucky. If he doesn’t end up trying to kill himself and succeeding. Some days, I still wish that I had succeeded. Some days, I can’t breathe through the hole that I’ve had to punch through my chest to keep myself standing. Being hollow hurts like a bitch, but it’s better than feeling your kind of pain. Every time I told you that you were good parents—that was a lie. I was the good parent. I still am the good parent. You two never would have survived this long if it weren’t for me, and B certainly wouldn’t have had a chance. What you’re going to be like without me, I hope I never have to see.

Nineteen years, I’ve been trying to get out. You’re utterly wrong if you think that anything I am is because of you. You were nothing but a sperm donor and an available uterus. When I show the world exactly how strong, how smart, and how happy I am, know that none of that is down to you.

You weren’t my parents. You were biology.

You may not have left by choice, you may have been taken from us, but I blame your lack of concern for your health. I blame your smoking. While it was not totally your fault, your death is to blame for many discrepancies in my life, our lives. The money problems, our insecurities which lead to bullying and being easily pushed around, the feeling of loneliness, his lack of self-worth, her loneliness, her family’s nagging to find someone so she won’t “end up alone” even though she even feels better off without worrying about another, and just the fact that I will never have a Daddy-Daughter dance so when the time comes at my wedding I don’t know what I will do. 

I want to thank you for giving me life and starting me off. But you may be at peace knowing that we are fine without you, and are able to hold ourselves up on our own.