Dear (Dad?),

I was only 5 years old when, on Thanksgiving Night, you decided to take your habits a little too far. I was only 5 years old when my mother got that dreadful phone call from your girlfriend that you didn't wake up from last night's bender. For a long time, I didn't understand what happened. I didn't know how you died because my mother thought I was too young to know. I idolized you. I adored the thought of you. I didn't even know you.

When I found out how you passed, I didn't understand the gravity of the situation. I didn't understand how anyone could choose an addiction over their own flesh and blood. But growing up with the knowledge that anyone in my life could make that choice, made me realize how much I should cherish when people choose me. I realized at a much younger age than most that no one is obligated to love or accept me. No one is contracted to be on my side. So thank you, "Dad", for giving me the gift of knowledge, and the gift of truth. Thank you for showing me the truth of the real world, far before my peers got that chance.

I'll never know your favorite color, favorite song, or how you hold the steering wheel when you drive. I'll never know what song you hum when you're making dinner or the sound of your footsteps coming through the house. I'll probably never be able to spot features from you in my children because my only memories of your face are from disposable camera photos. But, one thing I will always know, is that my life would not be what it is today if you had just chosen me.

Thank you, without lots of love,

Sincerely,

Your daughter.