Dear “Dad,”

Is that what I'm supposed to call you, Dad?

I want you to know that writing this letter did not come easily for me. There have been parts of my life that I wished you were there, but as I grew up I began to understand that growing up without you was the best thing for me.

When you think of me, I hope you picture Daddy’s little girl, the one who looked at you with stars in her eyes. I hope you picture the little girl that danced on your feet listening to butterfly kisses in her room before bed. I hope images of my crooked little smile and bright blue eyes come into your mind. I used to hope every broken promise, broke you. I used to hope that you leaving me tore you apart inside, but now I just hope you’re happy.

I hope you’re happy that the word Dad makes my heart ache; it reminds me of lonely nights and the constant questioning of why we weren’t enough for you. I hope you’re at peace with leaving your family. I hope you’re okay with the fact that your leaving broke me, and that when your baby girl needed you the most, you weren’t there. I hope you’re okay with another man doing your job. I hope you sleep peacefully knowing that you could walk by your own child on the street and not recognize her. And most of all, I hope that you are proud of yourself for being the first man to break my heart when you were the only man who was never supposed to that.

I hope that you know that because of you I live in fear that every man who comes into my life will soon disappear. My entire life I’ve craved for validation, a relationship not defined by sex, someone to love me without condition, and someone to call me beautiful with no strings attached. Someone to appreciate me, the woman I am. I needed you, I needed you to scare the pants of teenage boys who looked the wrong way at me. I needed you to talk to me about boys, so I wouldn’t suffer through my current state of terrible relationships and empty voids. I was supposed to be your little girl, you were supposed to be there to tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world and that anyone who didn’t see that was crazy. But you weren’t.

Growing up, I thought I needed you, I longed for the feet dancing, and the strong embraces we shared when I was a little. But you know what dad? I don’t need you anymore. In fact, I don’t think about you anymore. Your face rarely crosses my mind, I don’t even remember what your voice sounds like.

I am finally at peace with your absence, it has taken me a very long time to not hate you. But the fact of the matter is that if I hated you, it would take more energy than not caring at all. It’s you that will not see me walk across the stage at my college graduation, walk me down the aisle or ever hold your grandchildren. You will never know the woman your little girl has grown up to be.

In case you were wondering, your little girl has grown up to be a loving, caring individual. A soon to be senior in college, aspiring to be a social worker. A volunteer firefighter. Someone who gives her all, even when she has nothing left to give. Someone who cares about others and loves without barriers. And I hope that you never look back and take credit for any of that. I hope you never read this and think "That's my daughter, I inspired that." Because you didn't -- your absence, however, did.

Last but not least, I want to thank you. Thank you for making me strong, but more importantly. I want to thank you for allowing me to see how strong and amazing my mother is. Being a single parent of five children, working 90+ hours a week while still being so remarkable and caring, you did that to her. Through that, I was able to learn what unconditional love is, and how you’re supposed to anything for those you love. For a mom to play both roles in parenting, it was amazing to watch. Things weren’t always easy, but thank you for giving me an unbreakable bond with my mother. She is my cheerleader, my disciplinarian, my best friend, my everything. Without you, I’m sure our relationship would not have reached such heights. Together, we have experienced the highest of highs and lowest of lows, mentally, emotionally, financially. But thank you, thank you for leaving me because you left me in the hands of someone who was strong, independent and capable without you.

One of the most important reasons I want to thank you for leaving is the fact that I found a man who is actually deserving of the title “dad” and my mom found a man who was actually deserving of her love. The man who scares all the guys who take me on dates, the man who puts time and effort into our relationship, and the man who never lets a day go by without telling me he loves me. If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to have a dad who wants to be my dad.

Thank you for teaching me how to love myself. Without you around, I learned early how important it was to love myself enough for the both of us. Now, instead of feeling unloved, abandoned or betrayed by you, I channel it into something bigger and better for myself. Your absence has made me self-reliant. Your absence has given me a sense of fierce independence and resilience, that I otherwise may not have found.

Thank you for teaching me forgiveness and grace. As I’ve said, I have graciously accepted your absence — not only that but I have forgiven you for it, despite your lack of apology or remorse for leaving. Isn’t that what grace is, after all? Accepting an apology you’ve never received.

Many young women in my position would be angry, or hate you for the choices you’ve made. As I’ve pointed out, I’m loving, caring, but most importantly forgiving. I may not love you or want any relationship with you in the future, but I do not hate you. You and I may never cross paths again, I’m thankful for you because without you I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Thank you for all the lessons, thank you for making a soldier out of me, Dad. I wish you all the best.