I was perfectly fine with the idea that I would never speak to you again. I was perfectly fine with never giving you the time of day. In fact I’ve spent most of my life trying to convince myself that I didn’t even care about you. But I have to be honest and say that my whole life I’ve felt this empty, never-ending void in my heart. I attribute that to the absence of a father.
To be fair, I’ll admit that there were times where things were good. I’ll never forget the time that we went out for ice cream and as we were walking back to the car I dropped my ice cream cone. Instead of yelling at me or telling me that it was my fault you walked back to the ice cream shop and bought me a new ice cream cone. I remember that time in 1st grade when you came to my school during lunch with McDonald’s because I’d forgotten my lunch at home. Those were some great memories and although there were a few memories like those, they were quite far and in between.
In a few weeks I will be 25 years old and when I look back at my childhood all I can really think of is pain. I’ve spent the majority of my life battling depression and dealing with anxiety. My whole life I have spent watching my family and friends with their dads. Their protective, loving fathers who have made them feel beautiful, safe, and loved. You deprived me of that feeling and because of that I feel hurt. I am hurt because I had to go to school in the 2nd grade and hear about how my best friend Susie spent the whole weekend with her father, who taught her how to go fishing. I am hurt because I had to watch as my friend Diana’s dad would come to school just to scare all the mean boys who used to tease her in class. I am hurt because I had to watch as my cousin was walked down the aisle by her dad and then watched as they danced together in front of everyone she loved. I am hurt because you were never there for me during my struggles.
Did you know that I graduated college? Mom worked her ass off so that she could put me through college, all by herself (she is such an amazing, strong woman). I studied to become a teacher. I learned a lot. Specifically, I learned about the development of children. In one of my classes we learned about how children are like sponges. They can soak in everything and anything around them. I think that it is easy to assume that because children are so young, they can’t possibly be affected by the things around them. Many adults think children are young, they are resilient, they will forget. While it is true that children are resilient, it does not mean that they are unaffected. The things that children are exposed to, the things that they are taught, the things that are done and said to them stay with them. Those are the things that develop them into who they are. I spent too many years burying a lot of the things that you have said and done to me and I never realized how much of that has actually affected me.
For instance I’m a huge insomniac. I think it’s mostly because I can’t shut my brain off. Did you know that I can’t sleep without the TV on? It’s the silence that gets me. It’s in the silences that I remember. I remember all of the things that I always try so hard to forget. I remember that time in 1st grade when you pinned me down and put a knife to my neck threatening to kill me. I remember Kuya and I being too scared to be left home alone with you that we’d beg Mom to bring us to work with her even though she worked nights and she wasn’t allowed to bring us into her work so we would bring flash lights and sleeping bags and Kuya and I would sleep in the trunk of her car. I remember that constant feeling of being afraid to say or do something wrong because of the yelling that would occur if I were to step out of term. I remember having to strip down naked while you whipped me with your belt until I bled. I remember every single day after school I would have this feeling of dread and anxiety because I never knew what kind of mood you would be in. I remember never feeling safe or relaxed in my own home. I remember wishing that you could have just loved us as much as you loved your drugs. I remember praying to God every night that I could be good enough for you so you wouldn’t yell at me or Mom or Kuya. Because I remember the yelling. The name calling. The threats. The abuse.
I remember 2AM. Every single night, like clock work. You’d yell at my Mom, drag her into your room. What happened behind those closed doors, I can only imagine was worse than what I would hear. I remember the screams. The screams that were so loud that they still haunt me in my dreams. I remember Mom literally crawling, on hands and knees, into my room. I remember her being so weak, so defeated that I would have to help her up and into my bed. She would bawl herself to sleep, shaking so hard I’d swear there was an earthquake. I remember how you’d barge into my room threatening to take Kuya and I away from her. I remember the embarrassment, humiliation, and horror in her eyes as you berated her in front of me. I remember you choking her as she lie on my bed next to me and I’d be there begging you to leave her alone.
On worse nights, I remember all the times you would drive dangerously close to the edge of a bridge, aiming for it, screaming at the top of your lungs that “we are going to die together today”. I will never forget the sound of Kuya literally screaming for you to stop. We’d try to jump out of the van, but the doors were always locked. I can still hear myself begging and pleading for you to stop. “Please stop. I’m scared. Daddy, please. Please.”
I felt such hatred toward you. I hated you because of the way you treated my Mom, for taking away the confidence and happiness that I’ve always known my Mom to have. I hated you for all the sacrifices Mom had to make because you didn’t pay 1 cent of child support. I hated you because I was just a kid and I didn’t deserve to have to live every single day of my life afraid. I deserved a father. I hated you because despite everything, Mom always encouraged us to forgive/love/pray for you because, as she would say, “he is still your father”. & Despite it all, I did. I would pray for you every single day.
Now that I’m older sometimes something will happen and it triggers something inside of me and I start remembering things that happened. It’s been tough, but I think that it is good for me because I don’t want to carry this burden with me anymore. As much as I would like to put all of the blame on you, I know that I was also the one who allowed myself to continue to let our memories hurt me for so long. So it’s time. I’m moving on. The only way that I know how to do that now is to do as I’ve taught my students. As a teacher I always tell my students that in order to solve a problem with a friend, they have to let them know how they feel and why they feel that way. After some guided dialogue I ask the students whether or not they think they are ready to forgive each other so that they can move on. I tell my students that forgiveness means understanding that the other person did not mean to hurt them and that they know the other person is sorry. I also tell my students that when you forgive someone you have allowed yourself to let your feelings be heard and are now allowing yourself to move on from the situation.
I have told you how I felt and the many reasons why I feel the way that I do. If I am putting myself in your shoes I might say that maybe you went through something yourself to make you act the way you did with me. I might say that maybe you were battling your own demons and never found the right way to cope with them. I might say that perhaps you were not able to control your anger and you handled it the wrong way. Whatever it is… I am choosing to forgive you. I am choosing forgiveness because I am not going to allow who we were to intrude on who I am becoming. I deserve happiness and I deserve peace. I only wish that you are able to find peace as well.
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