Home > Uncategorized > A Letter To My Father

A Letter To My Father

Dear Dad,

I haven’t talked to you face-to-face since August and I don’t quite remember the last time we talked on the phone. But that’s who you are. You don’t really show emotion. It makes us look weak. You did all you could to teach me that.

I remember being 6 and riding with you to the corner store. I was looking at the ice cream while you bought a pack of cigarettes. Someone ran into the store with a stocking cap over their face. They had a shotgun in their hands. He wanted Mr. Thompson to give up the money. Mr. Thompson refused. I remember my ears popping when the gun went off. I remember seeing a piece of Mr. Thompson land not a foot beside me. I remember the man taking the register and running away.

That night, I asked you why that happened. I remember you told me to just go to bed as you didn’t want to deal with it.

I remember when I was 12 and working on a sketch of Nana’s garden. I was so proud of it when it was finished. You and Mom were actually home so I showed you. You took it from my hands, looked at and then asked me why I couldn’t play football. That next year I would try out and make the team. I was good. When I stopped playing so I could concentrate on school, wrestling, my job, and the newspaper you actually yelled at me. I was a disappointment to you. I remember you telling me that I needed football for a scholarship as I wouldn’t go to college otherwise.

I saw football as basically working out in preparation for the wrestling season so if I was going to cut anything from my schedule that would be it. In the four years I was on the team, you never came to a single match. I remember asking you to come to what would be one of my last. It was my junior year and I was wrestling in the regional tournament. I wanted my family there. Nana, who was sick at the time, was there. Aunt K and Jingles were there. Mami, Rose, and Gabi were there. You? You were just an empty seat. Mom at least told me beforehand she couldn’t come as she was terrified I’d get hurt. I won that night.

When you saw said medal, you brushed it off as if I had done nothing special.

I remember when Tinkerbell broke up with me, you told me that it didn’t matter as “pussy [was] pussy”. You have no idea how close I came to cold clocking you that day.

I remember when me and Mil found the text messages between you and The Homewrecker. I remember Mom saying we were just jumping to conclusions even after we showed them to her. I remember me and Mil laying in bed with her, hugging her as she cried. I remember the fight when she found the lingerie in your work bag.

You always told me that I didn’t want to spend time with you, you will never know that I am always thinking of how you were never there when I was growing up so why would you or I care now?

I remember you acting like you were hurt when me and Junior were outside that summer talking about politics and you had no idea I even knew what was going on in the world.

Mom at least has tried to be a part of my life and we’ve come a long way since I was 15.

You, on the other hand, could never be bothered with it.

I doubt you remember it considering how drunk you were but I remember you telling me that had Mil been born first, you would have left Mom. You will never know that what little respect I still had for you died that night.

When me and Mil were talking to Mom about the possibility of you two divorcing, she was amazed at how angry we were with you after how good you’d been to us. Mil asked her how? Would you like to know what her answer was? You stayed. We should be grateful to you for owning up to that much for how little you were actually around? Mil said it best when she called that a load of bull.

You have no idea that your own daughter will probably never willingly come around you again if she can help it. You have no idea that you will never have a relationship with any children she may have. You have no idea that she will most likely not come to or even acknowledge your funeral.

You have no idea that the reason I never use my first name is because it came from you. You have no idea that I flinch every time people tell me I look or sound like you. You have no idea that once this divorce is finalized I will likely never speak to you again. You have no idea that I hated you for the longest time.

You have no idea that your last name will die with you, and neither me or Mil can bring ourselves to care all that much.

Despite what you tried to tell me, I believe it is possible for someone to love me other than my parents. If what you showed us the last 20/18 years was love, I’m better off loveless. And I refuse to believe that.

I refuse to believe that women are just good for sex and thus you shouldn’t care too much.

I refuse to believe that you should look out for yourself first and foremost.

I refuse to believe that people will always stop at the colour of my skin and never care who I am.

Dad, I love you and I forgive you. I can’t hate you anymore. Hate takes energy and so does hoping that you will look at me as someone who matters. Frankly, I don’t have the strength for either anymore. And since I can’t hate you, I have no choice but to forgive you.

Pap hated his dad.

You hated Pap.

It has to stop with me.

I will likely never say even half of this to you. But it’s out there and for now, that’s enough.

You will never know how many nights I cried myself to sleep growing up. Wondering what I had done that you would take no interest in me. Or how I would always feel guilty when I would see my friends with their dads.

For as long as I can remember, one of my worst fears has been that I will turn out to be just like you. I point blank refuse to let this come to pass. I’ll shoot myself in the face before I let that happen. Every time I say good night to Daybreak, I swear in my head that I will be a far better dad to her than you were to me. I will do all I can to keep that promise. I am moving on, aren’t you proud?

Your son,


Categories: Uncategorized Tags: ,
  1. Diane
    October 17, 2008 at 11:34 AM

    I don’t like to cry first thing in the morning but I’m glad I read this. It broke my heart… but it also gives me hope… hope that we can all rise above the crap we’re dealt, even when it seems harder than hell and against the odds.

    That he wasn’t proud of you makes him very, very foolish… that you can forgive and express love in spite of that makes you a truly remarkable person. For what it’s worth (from a complete stranger and all), I’M proud of you :).

    Thank you for this – for sharing something so personal and so affecting. You’ve been added to my favorites list now… and with good reason :). Take care.

  2. Summer
    October 17, 2008 at 4:17 PM

    I have chills. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful heartfelt story with all of us. It is a talent to be open enough to put it out there like that. I bet you have a huge sense of release just writing all of that down!
    For what it is worth, you sound nothing like your father.
    Remember, everyone is good for something, even if it is just to serve as a bad example.

    Keep your head up!

  3. Miss Tiff
    October 17, 2008 at 5:47 PM

    That was really deep and it almmost made me cry. Thank you for sharing your personal experiences with us.

  4. Shelly...
    October 18, 2008 at 1:12 AM

    Wow! I am impressed (and a bit jealous) how you so eloquently can put the words on paper. Your honesty is inspiring!

  5. The Odd Duck
    October 18, 2008 at 1:57 AM

    Diane – I’m sorry for making you cry. I would say it means a lot when someone who doesn’t know me can still be proud of me. Thank you ma’am.

    Summer – The reason I started this blog was to help with openness somewhat. Yes, it does feel like a relief to let out all that. It does my heart good to hear you say I’m not like him. My dad would definitely qualify as a bad example of a husband/father. I shall try my best.

    Tiff – Thank you.

    Shelly – This post took about a week for me to write but thank you regardless.

  6. Shelly...
    October 19, 2008 at 1:06 AM

    Well, a week to write, 5 minutes or 2 years, it’s still an awesome well written post. To be that honest with yourself and put it down on paper as clearly as you did is impressive.
    On a lighter note, I see you are a Sarah Palin lover like I am so have you seen this website? http://www.palinispresident.com
    Cracked me up. Great way to waste a few minutes.

  7. July 10, 2009 at 10:49 AM

    ……. wow Kendall…. i have chills…. i didnt read this post until now (i know you posted it months ago). i can only imagine how hard it was to write but how much of a release it was once it was finished.

    everytime i read something you write (funny or serious or just plain sweet) you completely amaze me. you are a wonderful person who takes the shitty things that come in life and you learn from them and grow. i cant even begin to tell you how much i admire you for that.

    i really hope i get to meet you in person when you come here next year. 🙂

  8. April 10, 2011 at 8:10 AM

    WyZJLe YATB says you r the best

  1. July 10, 2009 at 10:09 AM

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