Letters to Dad

Location

 

Letters to Dad

Dear Dad,

The only memory I have of you is my reflection in the mirror. I’m told that we look similar. I don’t remember the small details of your face; this makes it rather difficult to recognize the family resemblance.

 

Dear Dad,

I struggle to understand how I could have your eyes. I’m told that they were empty. You communicated to the world through only through slurred words and soaked lips. I have forgiven you for the sour drops of fermentation that you spit upon my childhood cheek as you choked on the words “I love you.”

 

Dear Dad,

I’m not choking on these words; I love you.

 

Dear Dad,

I’ve forgiven the alcohol. It just wants to help people like us; people that need to feel numb. People with empty eyes; people that look like you and I.

 

Dear Dad,

I’m not certain that I want to look like you.

 

Dear Dad,

Watching you at a young age, I quickly learned that your fits of raged morphed into a drunken joy only after the third bottle touched your lips. When I was sad, I convinced myself that sipping on three glasses of apple juice would heal my sorrow. This placebo stopped working years ago.

 

Dear Dad,

I’ve forgiven mom. She said that you leaving was for the best, you said that she was lying. The first time I didn’t get a phone call on my birthday, I learned that she was telling the truth.

 

Dear Dad,

I know that your pain came from somewhere. I, unlike the rest of the family am happy that you turned to alcohol. You turned to making yourself feel numb while I turned to making myself feel an overriding pain. I can only pray for the sake of my future family that your sips did not begin with the slit of a wrist.

 

Dear Dad,

I am contented by the fact that our relationship ended in death by court order instead of death by your own

hanging. There are boys like me who stand before a pastor and a casket instead of a lawyer and a gavel. Thank you for not leaving me in a more permanent route.

 

Dear Dad,

You are still breathing. I can still follow you from the stench of your late night binges, but I’m not convinced that you want me to find you.

Your Son,

Alex.

PS: After you have forgiven yourself, you would be willing to let me see once and for all just how much I look like you. 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741