Tuesday 30 May 2017 – Letter To My “Father”.

Dad,

It’s not easy for me to write this letter, and I’m sure it’s difficult to read.  There were times in my life when I thought I needed you there, to help me or guide me, but I eventually realised that growing up without you was the best thing you ever did for me.  There was a time when you was a part of my life and then you vanished.  

You found solice in a new wife and a new daughter, and I was cast aside; merely rubbish.  I felt forgotten about.  I felt abandoned and alone.  I was once unhappy and dejected, and then I adopted anger as I hit my teens.  I wanted to hurt you, emotionally and physically.  What I would’ve given to get under your skin.  It took me a long time to realise that I had so much rage, but the only direction it was going was towards myself.  And so, instead I forgot about you.  I forgot all the times you said you’d be there for me.  

I banished the good times we had from my mind, and as unusual as it sounds, the bad times made me stronger.  I remember when your wife said she thought I was rude.  I remember her not letting me in your house, and I had to sit in your car whilst you fetched a sandwich out for me to eat.  I remember you calling and cancelling our weekends, because you and your new family made plans.  I remember when I stopped receiving birthday cards from you.  I remember when you never called again.  And I remember you never stopping any of it from happening.

When me and Char had children, there was a small period when I felt I should give you a chance.  I thought it was the right thing to do, for my kid’s sake; so they had a chance to meet you.  And I’m sure you remember that at one time, the chance arose.  We sat in the same room, after twelve years.  You didn’t say anything, instead you sat there blubbering.  Was I supposed to feel bad for you?  After all you put me through?  You left once again, and I haven’t seen you since.  It was at that moment I realised, they were better off without you, as was I. 

It may sound like I’m bitter, but I am not.  I thank you for being absent.  Thank you for not being there, polluting my life.  Thank you for not being at my wedding day.  Thank you for being you.  You showed your true colours, and it made it easier for me to clarify I had done the right thing for me and my family.  One day, my children will ask who my daddy was, and where he is.  What will I say? Well, I’m not sure just yet, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.  But I will make one thing clear to them: your daddy’s daddy made him see what it takes to be a father; a good father.  He made daddy realise what it means to do the right thing and I will do all I can for you two, no matter what.  

I see my children grow more and more each day, and nothing in the world will ever keep me away from them.  It’s a pity you never had the same amount of drive and determination to do the same.  No matter, maybe it’s you who is still to grow and mature, who knows?

What I do know is that I have everything I need in my life, and more.  I have my beautiful wife and my wonderful children, who I will love and protect until the day I die.  You are redundant.  A stranger who gave me life.  But without you, I wouldn’t have all I have now, that’s a fact.  It’s just a shame you chose to shut me out, and pretend I didn’t exist.  

I really don’t wish the worst for you.  I hope you enjoy whatever you may or may not have left, but I know you better than you think.  I know you wish you reached out to me, but now the gaps too great.  

Blood may not always be thicker than water.  

Sincerely

‘Your son’ 

Twitter
Facebook
Instagram
YouTube

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s