I’m starting a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.
I am writing to let you know that I am not sorry we’ve stopped talking. I am sorry, though, that you have chosen every avenue available over me. Alcohol will always be your crutch, something I can never compare to in your eyes. My same-age cousins will always mean more to you than I ever have or ever will. They have always held a special place in your heart that I was never allowed to be a part of. They had father figures in their lives already but you just couldn’t resist treating them as if you were their father, abandoning your firstborn and only child.
Your daughter spent years hearing her cousins talk about how cool you are and how much fun they had with you snowboarding, going to concerts, exploring the mountains, and so on. Never once did it cross your mind to even ask me (or ask my more-than-lenient mom for permission) to join you on these adventures. The drunken promises you made to me were always left with me sitting on the stoop eagerly awaiting your arrival and clutching the phone hoping you’d call with a reason for being late. Eventually, I always gave up and cried, never hearing a single apology for any of these events. I wouldn’t know if you died on the way or if you simply got drunk and forgot I existed again. It was always days (sometimes weeks) before you’d bother to let me know.
The few times we did try to spend together would start off great. My heart would swell with excitement that my dad was actually paying attention to me for once. Slowly, beer after beer, shot after shot, swig after swig, these times together turned uglier and uglier. I’d start hearing about things that 9 year olds should never be self conscious of (things that still bother me in the mirror today). I’d start getting pushed or shoved around, having my possessions torn up because you thought it was “funny.” Hours and hours I would wait, days on end, just to hear from you or spend more than one sober hour a weekend together. Alcohol could never wait, could it? How many times was I dumped off at your parents house to sit and watch TV alone waiting for you to come back and hang out with me?
The last straw was when you flat out used me for a free ride out of state to avoid your massive amounts of legal troubles. Running away again, lying to me again, and eventually us screaming ourselves empty at each other. I spent my entire life savings trying to turn over a new leaf with you and I was repaid with sheer disappointment. I have never once felt proud of our relationship, but that event was the final straw that brought me shame to admit that I’ve been stupid enough to keep contact with such a negative force in my life. We reconciled as best we could years later, but the damage is irreparable. There is no erasing the scars you have left on my very soul, there is no more hope in me left for you.
It’s time for me to move on with my life and finally admit to myself that you never had a daughter.