Dear... you?

I don't even know what to call you. You haven't been around for a single moment of my life, nor have you expressed any regret for that, up until now. I cannot bring myself to call you my father, my dad or anything remotely close to that. I have my father, and he is twice the man that you have ever been. Your sperm donation was appreciated, but it does not grant you any titles.

I understand that you've never cared, but even so, because of you I am scarred. As years passed, the burden became lighter, and the weight that lies upon my shoulders has diminished. Today, with all of me, I decide to let go of you. I will not waste nights crying over someone who did not think twice about making the choice that ruined my life. I will not waste hours contemplating why you decided I was not worth staying for. Although I am eager to let you go, the part of me that remains broken by you swells under pressure.

I have been hurting more than you know or care to recognize. To be a young woman marked with the term “daddy issues” is to be objectified, used and put into a box by men. Because you actively chose not to participate in my life, some people assume that I am less valuable than other women. As of my 18th birthday, I am no longer a girl with "daddy issues." Instead, I am now a fatherless adult, and it is assumed my life must be half-empty. Years of rehabilitative therapy have led me to the realization that this is not my fault – it is yours. You are to blame for this unfortunate situation. I almost wish I had done something to provoke an incident as heartbreaking as the one I live through. No infant deserves a life of abandonment issues.

In a sense, I was extraordinarily lucky to have never known you. My pain is real, and you are very real to me. But faced with that gaping hole you left behind, a wonderful man chose to step up to the plate and take on the title “dad.” He taught me how to ride a bike, to stand up for myself, to cook, to create and to love those around me with such a fire that it inspires them to do the same. No one can ever take the place of the incredible man who raised me, for he was willing to do what you were incapable of. And by God, did you miss out. This man picked me up right where you left off, dusted me off and molded me into a functioning adult. The lingering thought of you used to stain the back of my mind, but today, I make the decision to wash this stain away and eliminate any thought of you that may rear its ugly head.

I am through constantly questioning my value, done being heartbroken over your fatal errors and sick and tired of crying over you. Unanswered questions thoroughly haunted my mind for more than a decade. There are so many missing links to my story because you did not take the opportunity to know me. My initial response to hearing about your disappearance was simply to ask why. I wondered what I had done wrong, why I was not good enough for you. Years later, I learned about your heroin dependency and alcoholism. I know I wasn’t planned, that I was a mistake – a simple blip in time for you. I hope you know that you are the same to me.

I am no longer alone, though I felt that I had been for most of my life. The worst part was and still is the feeling of isolation – that no one can seem to understand why your absence from my life was unbearably painful at times. To put it simply, the knowledge of your absence scarred me. Learning that it was an active choice ruined me. Hearing about the vile, disgusting things you inflicted upon those I hold dear enraged me.

I realize that your actions and choices have rotten you from the inside out. Nonetheless, I pray that one day, you find yourself, for you have been wandering too long. Though you hurt me every single day, I can’t help but forgive you. There are some parts of me that take after you. Sometimes they come out and though I don’t notice, those who associated with you do. I heard you were intelligent, but unfortunately your poor choices do not reflect this. The parts of you that shine through me are only coincidental and genetic because you chose not to be a part of my upbringing. You have been reduced to a mere part of my conception. My real father has been here for the past 17 years. Out of respect for him, I will never refer to you as anything more than biological. You are simply half of the genetic recipe, and that is the only role you will ever play in my life.

Today, I forgive you. I forgive you, not because I feel that you deserve it or that I feel you may change. I finally forgive you for myself. It's time to let you go. I hope you've had a nice life, because since you left, I got to have one, too.

Sincerely,

18 years too late