Of all the things that I’ve learned Odyssey can do, connecting you to other people just like you must be one of my favorite aspects of the job. I’m neither the first nor the last person to be abandoned by his or her father.

For me, it happened a few years after my parents divorced. Dad, you were awful. I feel as your son, I’m allowed to say that. As a dad, you weren’t great. As far as I know, and maybe this changed since you left, I am the only offspring you have. I don’t think you did a great job in that role. You were abusive to my mom, you committed crimes, you made life hell for a lot of people.

But dad, this letter is not about me bashing or shaming you. This letter is about me finally getting the courage to forgive you. Though you played games and tried to use your money and influence to control me, and though you made decisions that I, to this very day, receive repercussions from, I’m not writing to denounce you as a father.

There is no “parent school” where you can get a world-class degree on how to be a good and successful parent. There isn’t a set of tests or criteria that you must pass or obtain in order to be deemed fit to be a parent.

Every day, people from all over the world, in very different circumstances than yours become parents of their own. With little means and complicated circumstances, people — sometimes even children — become parents of his or her own.

What I’m trying to say is, being a parent is open to anyone.

I don’t know your motivations behind doing the things you did, behind your abusiveness towards me and my mom — your wife — and I don’t even know where you are. I often wonder if you’re still alive because I haven’t seen you for over 13 years.

In the time that I haven’t seen or heard from you, I could have in theory had a child of my own.

I understand that being a parent is hard: financially, emotionally, day-to-day, 24/7. The job is harder than any other job in the world, and the stakes, well, the stakes are extremely high.

You left through very complicated circumstances within the courts because of your decisions and actions. While I think of your departure often, I also ponder the idea that you think about me often.

I know that if I had a son and I didn't know what he was doing or where he was, I would think about this non-stop.

If you are curious to know, I’m doing great. I’m about to graduate college with honors, and I’m gearing up to get a big-kid job.

Though I can’t say your departure from my life was the best thing that ever happed to me — because it wasn’t, trust me, there were many nights that me and my mom didn’t have dinner — I made it through to the other side of those turbulent times.

I’ve worked for nearly everything I have. I’m working multiple jobs to put myself through my double-bachelors, and I’m very proud of the work I’ve done thus far to get where I am.

When you left, and the years that followed, I grew exponentially. I became responsible and logical, I learned that I needed to work twice as hard for a fraction of what others had.

If I could go back and have everything change, I wouldn’t. I whole-heartedly believe that, despite the repercussions, you should make decisions that make you happy.

Though I wasn’t there, I thought about you a bit on father’s day this year —more than usual. Why?

Because I’m becoming a man now, something that I think took you a long time to do. Though I have a lot of work because I get there, I think you do too. And you know what? That’s OK.

I might never see you again. That’s a crazy thought, but it’s very true. I may very well never see you again, but I hope I get to show you that despite your selfishness and pride, I grew up to be a productive adult.

And one thing I know to be true, despite anything I could ever do, you will always be my dad.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.