I got the call yesterday. That there had been an ambulance call out to your house. Your house that was only minutes from mine. The one I live in with mom and my stepdad. An ambulance call to the house that we grew up in. To the house that we hadn’t been to in 10 years. I didn’t know what to feel or say. All I felt was numbness. Nothing. Shock. Did that make me a horrible person? That I didn’t rush to you? That I didn’t feel anything? I don’t know. A part of me felt that you would be fine and life would continue on as it had for the past ten years. With us not talking and acting as though the other wasn’t there when we lived in the same town. I tried to go about my day as normal, but all I could think about was the man you used to be. The father you used to be. I remember being so close to you, going everywhere with you and having our inside jokes. Basically being attached at the hip. But I also had to think about the fact that all I wanted was for you to love me and accept me. You threw me away. You threw Liz away. You threw mom away. You chose to drink booze instead of love your family and I couldn’t change your mind. You became so cruel with your hateful words and jabs at your children. Mom couldn’t deal with the mistreatment anymore and made the decision that it was best for us to leave. She made sure we had the decision to leave as well and we both knew that it was for the best. It was the best for all of us. Including you. You were such a hateful and bitter and angry man. You hated the world and felt it owed you a favor at the same time. I’m sorry you had horrible parents. I’m sorry you lost your brother before you really got the chance to know him. I’m sorry you never learned how to be a parent because yours never showed you. I’m sorry that life was so hard for you. But we were there. We were offering you the family you always wanted on a silver platter. And you chose to drink your life away. So we left. I tried to reach out to you. The cat we had shared as a family had to be put down and I felt you should know. So I asked mom to take me to you, not realizing at the time that it was a year to the day after we had moved out. You were outside and turned as you heard us pulling in. You looked shocked. Shocked to see one of your children. I felt like there was a heavy weight inside of me as I told you Theo had passed. You nodded and told me you weren’t surprised. There was an awkward silence between us. An awkward silence between a father and daughter that used to be so close. That made me angry. That you could throw us away. That you could throw ME away. All I could think about was the year before when you had told me to pick between you and mom. How angry I was because she hadn’t asked us to do that so how could you? Asking had made the decision for me and I told you as much. I will never forget you brushing your hands together and saying fine and that you were washing your hands of us and that you didn’t have daughters. Well that was fine because we hadn’t had a father in a long time. I was brought out of those thoughts when you asked if you could have a hug. That made me angrier and I asked you if you truly felt you deserved one. You said probably not but asked if you could have one anyway. The fact that you realized you didn’t deserve it. The fact that you still wanted that made me feel the smallest bit better. So I hugged you. It was actually nice. You said I love you kid. That took me back. In that moment I wasn’t sure what to say. So I didn’t say anything at all. I pulled away and said goodbye and we left.
So I got the call. The call that you had died. There were so many emotions that I felt like I had a tornado of them inside of me. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. How dare you get to just be gone? How dare you not have to continue on living with your choices and actions? Why couldn’t you just get over yourself and be someone to your kids? But that isn’t right. You were a very depressed and messed up man. You didn’t want to be fixed and you didn’t want to admit you had a problem. So I hope that you are at peace with yourself. You don’t have to be ashamed anymore. You don’t have to be angry anymore, or depressed, or bitter, or any of that. You can be at peace and you can be with your family wherever you are. The truth is, I lost you a long time ago. I grieved when we moved out and you didn’t care. Mom made sure we knew you were a different man. You weren’t the man she married and you weren’t the man that was our father anymore. So that is when we grieved. We had almost 10 years to grieve you. A man came into our lives during that time and made it easier to accept that you were gone to us. He came in and he made mom happy. Happier than I could EVER remember seeing her. And that in itself is sad. Sad that she allowed herself to live in that sadness so that her kids could have both parents. She tried everything. That woman is a warrior. She hid all of your wrongdoings from us for so long. She played the part of both parents but never took any of the credit because she wanted us to have you too. My mother was and is the fiercest protector. Everything she did, she did for us. I think a part of you always knew how far she went for us and maybe that made you feel worse. But that I won’t be sorry for. She is my best friend and the first person I want in my corner. I think you wanted her there too. I think you felt so betrayed that she left you. That we left you. I think you still loved her and us all the way up to the end. And I’m going to continue thinking that of you. Giving you that small benefit. But I want you to know that I didn’t miss out on having a dad. Because that’s who that man in our lives came to be to me. He was there in all the ways you couldn’t be. Helping to fill that void. Showing me what a dad is supposed to be. He was there for my high school graduation and my first car. My first car accident. My first boyfriend. My first broken heart. He hugged me and loved me and talked with me about things to make me feel better. Like a dad should. I will always hold a place for you in my heart. A place for that man that you were all that time ago. I’m going to let go of all the other things. I’m going to forgive all the things you said and did. I’m going to hold on to those good memories even if it takes a magnifying glass to see them. I’m going to let you go. I’m going to use this sad time to get closer to my sister and hang onto her and my nephew and my brother in law a little tighter. I’m going to hold onto mom and dad a little tighter. I’m going to appreciate what I have all the more now than I do already. So be at peace. I forgive you. Rest knowing that we are going to be okay. Rest knowing that I never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you for who you were and the times we had. Good bye.