Dear Dad,

We used to be so close, way back when. I remember you would take me to soccer practice, always helping me improve. You used to go to parent-teacher conferences and actually cared about my grades. You told me that you loved me and I believed you. But now, when I look back, it is difficult for me to remember a good time. I remember you used to have a picture that said that "anyone can be a father but it takes a special man to be a dad" and I can say that you have been both. You started as the dad who dressed up with me for Halloween and turned into a man that I can't recognize.

I knew it was coming, the divorce. It was hard not to see the signs, even at a young age. You asked me a couple months ago if I was still mad about it happening and I said no. That was an honest answer, I assure you. I am not mad that it happened because I love my life the way it is and I don't want to go back to who I once was if for no other reason than that I would be scared to see what was really caused by one single decision.

But I can honestly say I hate the man that you became after it happened. The weekends that I was forced to spend with you, in the beginning, were the worst, not that you would remember because you were never there, always off working. Though now that I know the truth I can't help but question your true whereabouts.

But those nights away from my mom, the only person who has always been there, when she needed me the most and I needed her were gut-wrenching. I would make myself sick just so that I didn't have to see you or avoid not seeing you. The nights that I did stay were awkward, what 13-year-old wants to share a bed with her grandmother?

If I was to be honest, I could have probably forgiven all of that, if I didn't find evidence. When I found that make-up in your car that wasn't mine or moms or grandmas I knew the truth and it hurt, it still does. Was she worth it? Whoever she was? Was throwing away the loving family you had worth the sex and infidelity? And when I started questioning you began giving me presents, as if to buy my silence and forgiveness. That just continued to drive me away.

Over the years you have paraded women in front of my brother and I — all of your conquests.

Because of you, I don't believe in love.

I can never bring myself to open up to someone in the fear that they will throw me away once someone better comes along. I believe every relationship is doomed to fail and it breaks my heart because I fear that I will end up alone and I have you to thank for it. And now you are sick, and you keep getting worse and I know that I will never be able to tell you any of this to your face but I need to get it out.

Someone needs to know. I can't keep holding this in because when you die, and I know you will, it won't make any of this easier. But what hurts the most is that no matter how much you have hurt me and the rest of our once upon a time family I still love you.

I love you, daddy, more than I will ever be able to tell you. And as I write this with tears falling down my face I can only hope that something good will come of it because I just don't know what else I can do.

Love,

Kayla