Dear Dad

Dear Dad, 

I used to hate you, with a passion. I used to resent the very thought of your existance. I used to wonder where you were and if I ever even crossed your mind. I used to love you. I used to miss your big laugh and crazy antics, though those memories are few and far between the darker ones I have of you. I avoided our family because all they wanted was for us to have a healthy father-daughter relationship and I couldn't do that, and I'm pretty sure you couldn't either. Then a lot of that family died, and I regret that I avoided them, never spent as much time with them as I wanted to. And I blamed that on you too.

I used to try so hard for my mother so that she wouldn't think that I was a burden, one that you helped create. I remember the look in her eyes whenever you were brought up and how, as I got older and you became less and less of a factor, that look showed up less and less. So I did my best to pretend you never were. She went through a lot of pain and finally had someone to love her like she deserved. I didn't want to remind her of the abuse. And I didn't want to be reminded of mine.

Chad is amazing, by the way. He came to both of us and showed us that you were a poor example of a husband and a father. He showed us that yelling wasn't necessary to handle any situation, and that threats weren't necessary for respect and love. He nurtured imagination and thought, instead of stifling it. He stepped up more than Mom and I had any right to ask him for, and took in another man's daughter as his own. Of course now I'm not another man's daughter, I'm his daughter. It took longer than I wanted to ask him to adopt me as I wanted to make sure I was doing it out of love for him, and not hate for you. It took a few years, some counseling, but I got to that point. Now Chad is recognized in every way as my father. I still can't call him Dad, though. That's your name. And because of what it means to me and what you turned it into, no one but you could ever have that name.

I don't hate you anymore. I don't love you anymore. I'm apathetic now, which is probably a worse thing by far in your eyes. People think hate is the opposite of love, but both involve strong feelings towards another. I don't have those feelings anymore. I can't forget what you've done and despite your sister's wishes, we'll never have that father-daughter relationship she wants for us. Someday, I might even be able to tell her that and let her know, gently, that it's not going to happen. I know that you had your demons and that you were probably scared to death to be a father. I forgive you, and I hope you have a wonderful life with people that love you. But I don't want you in mine.