Dad, did you know that I can't even turn on a TV without remembering that you said you'd hit me?
Because, as you said, mom might as well let me kill myself for daring to stand behind the TV screen and fix a fallen picture frame?
I was 10. I think. All I seem to remember is the static the TV shat out as you smacked your wife for for not being as fucking angry as you.
Dad, did you know that every time I feel the steam of just-rinsed dishes from the dishwasher on my cheeks, fogging my glasses, I imagine a fork planting all four of its tongs in my eye like a colonizer stabbing his flag poles in land that isn't his? I guess to be fair you didn't throw the fork at me or my brother; I guess to be fair the ground deserved to be hit; and I guess we only dserved to think we might be worth barely more than the ground.
Next time I'll remember to put the dishes away at 5:10 instead of the disrespectful time if 5:11.
Dad, did you know every time I hear an actor yell 'HUT!' in fake football game on a fake TV show I replay quite clearly the real reason why I tell my friends I hated sports growing up: I thought if I heard a teammate or coach raise their voice like you I'd combust into tears. Did you know that every man I will ever hear yell for the rest of my fucking life will remind me of you yelling at me?
Dad, did you know that I can't mow the grass without holding back panic attack flashbacks of your foot literally kicking my ass, throwing my body inside the very ditch you said you were "just afraid I might drive the lawnmower into"? Now every instance of the word "idiot" brings the smell of gas and grass and the gaslighting you pulled by saying you don't remember any of it. I get it. You just wanted the grass mowed. I heard a kid say "your ass is grass" once. I assume he doesn't think of it in the same way I do.
Dad, did you know that even after four years being convinced of my gender identity I still doubt myself because sometimes I convince myself I only became a woman so it'd guarantee I'd never become a man like you.
Dad, did you know that I picked my first name because it brought me joy and my middle name because it erased you? The day my new name became official I was more excitement that my middle name would never be the same as yours again.
Dad, did you know that I think of you every day? Every dishwasher load, every static TV screen, every overgrown yard, and every raised voice reminds me of how disposable I was to you.
I swear to God the energy I have to be the best fucking mother on the planet is filed entirely by making sure I never remind my kid of you.
Happy fucking father's day.