Celebrating Women for the Real World



Dear Dad:

You did notice that I called you Dad, not papa, daddy, or pops.  You were not the endearing, lovable, teddy bear of a father that most girls have.  In fact, you really weren’t around.  I’m not sure why?   Perhaps it was because any time you tried to do anything, mom ridiculed you and told you that you weren’t doing it right.  Unfortunately you have daughters.  Daughters tend to pick up on what their mothers do.  In my eyes, you became the man who couldn’t do anything right.

That being said, I know beyond knowing that you loved us.  I know beyond knowing that we were a hard bunch to love.  I think we put the “f” in fucked up.  Actually, make that a CAPITAL “F”!  Yes, our family was very fucked up. 

Dad, I think the thing that I regret most was going from this little girl who thought the world of you, to going to this girl who just didn’t fit into your heart.  It was like suddenly I turned 5, you taught me to ride my bike, and then never wanted anything to do with me again. 

I often wonder what I did to make you not want me around.  I just can’t figure it out.  Perhaps I embarrassed you.  That wouldn’t surprise me.  I excel at that!  Why do I say this?  Well I remember overhearing mom, you and Diane talking about the teachers wanting to test me because I was a slow reader.  Apparently I wasn’t on level.  I remember mom saying, “eventually those teachers will figure out that she’s just lazy and isn’t going to read unless there is true motivation.”  So true!  Boy was that the truth.  But do you know what your response was?  You said, and I quote because I will never forget it, “well honey, she does seem slow.  I think she may be retarded.”  Do you know what hurt about that?  You weren’t kidding.  You went on to say, “she always seemed kind of off to me.” 

Dad, I wish I would have known then what I know now.  I wish those words wouldn’t have hurt me as bad as they did.  I wish that I wouldn’t have let those words keep me from being the best that I could be.  Those words continue to ring in my head.  Every time I try something new, step out of my comfort zone, or majorly screw up something up, I hear your voice.  I hear those words.  Thankfully I am now old enough to yell “shut the fuck up” (which I literally say out loud when those feelings crop up).

You died 13 years ago.  It’s taken me that long to write this; to acknowledge some of my feelings.  Dad, I will tell you that deep in my heart, I forgive you.  As a parent I better understand that what you said you said out of concern.  You were trying to address the problem and perhaps try to get me help.  I hope that was the case.  In my mind I’ve justified what happened by thinking this.

Dad, I love you.  I miss you.  I want to thank you.  Even though you weren’t around much and you didn’t know what to say when you were around, you taught me a lot.  I have an excellent work ethic.  I’m usually at work 15 minutes early and willing to stay late to get the job done.  I almost always start what I finish.  I kick ass when it comes to numbers.  I love my animals and take care of them well.  Most of all, dad, I try to be the best mother that I can be.  All of this I learned from you.

I’m still angry at the doctor who let you die.  You shouldn’t have died.  If they would have diagnosed you properly, you would still be around.  But Dad, because of your death, Diane and I actually have a relationship.  We actually talk to each other, email, and she comes to visit on a regular basis.  Your death was what brought us together.  I just wanted you to know that because I think that would make you happy.

Dad, I regret not being able to say these words to you before you died.  I love you dad.  Thank you for being the best dad that you could be.

RIP  10/26/96.

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Comments

  1. * christie says:

    *super big hugs*

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 7 months ago
  2. This reminds me of a post I wrote about my dad on father’s day. Your post is very touching. Thanks for sharing.

    http://www.namelymarly.com/blog/2009/06/ode-to-cj-%E2%80%9Cmac%E2%80%9D-mcmillen/

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 6 months ago
  3. * Kami says:

    ((((HUGS)))))

    I guess they all do the best they know how to do?

    He’d like this letter.

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 6 months ago
  4. * Kat says:

    That was an amazing and moving post. 🙂 thank you for sharing it. 🙂

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 6 months ago


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