Hey Dad,
Can I even call you that? I mean you are my father after all, even if nobody else wants to acknowledge it. I haven't seen you in, what, fourteen years? I can't even remember when the last time I saw you was, except those times you broke the restraining order. It's funny really, the way I can't remember your voice but know it when I hear it. Remember three years ago when I was at the library with mom and you came in and decided you weren't leaving? I heard your voice at the information desk and every hair on my body stood on end. The room was spinning, I was so afraid. And yet I wanted to turn around and talk to you. I wanted to ask if you missed me or thought of me, because I think of you every single day. Some days I'm angry and other days I'm just plain sad.
I'm sad that I had to grow up without you. That I only know what you look like because of the torn up picture of us I found in the trash and taped back together when I was six. I don't even know your birthday, do you know mine? You weren't there when I was born, mom told me so. She says you called me your princess when I was a baby, that you loved me more than my brother. If you love me where are you? Where have you been my entire life?
You could have been here.
You could know me.
You chose not to.
Why? Was I not good enough for you? You had us on weekends when I was still barely old enough to remember. I remember exactly how your apartment looked, how you were always in your room with the door shut and we were in the living room watching TV. I remember when I wanted so badly to see how the nutcracker my brother was using worked. And how badly it hurt when you dislocated my elbow pulling me away from it. And I remember the next day when mom came and brought me to the hospital because that would have been too much for you. The hospital was two blocks from your house.
We had supervised visitations after that, but you just couldn't follow the rules could you? No, those ended as quick as they started, but not before you could ruin mom's career making her drive us to see you for an hour every Saturday.
And then you were allowed to send us mail every month. I patiently waited for mom to come home with the mail every single day after school. Nothing ever came. You sent cheap gifts and cards once in a while but that soon faded away.
Now there's nothing. I haven't seen or heard from you in years. We've both missed out on father-daughter dances. You've missed my proms, graduations, sports games, heartbreaks, and every achievement I've ever had. You're supposed to be the one to walk me down the aisle, to teach me how to fight off guys, to spoil me, to be there for me, and to love me more than any other man in the world.
Instead, you're with the woman you left mom for and her son. I hope you make them happy. I hope you're a father to him in all the ways you haven't been to me. I hope he doesn't go home and cry because he has to listen to people talking about how much they do with their fathers every single day. I hope he doesn't hang his head in shame when he can't relate. I hope you're there for him like a father is supposed to be.
I've made it without you and no matter how much it hurts I know you're never coming back. You may be in the same town but you're gone. I'm never going to stop missing you but I have to stop hoping you'll come back. I have to stop looking for you because you never started looking for me.
Goodbye dad.