I’m not even sure I have the words today. Words that would elegantly and perfectly describe my feelings.
My father is almost never mentioned on here or anywhere else in my day-to-day life. But today, today I need to talk about him for just a moment. Forgive me if my words are jumbled.
Yesterday I found a letter in amongst the folder of stuff you gave back. It was a letter that you wrote to me almost 1 month after we left you. I found the photocopy of your letter first. At the top of the photocopied page it had a date, a name and where it was dropped off to. Until yesterday I had never seen that letter. Never even knew that it had been written. I am angry that I didn’t receive it and for once that wasn’t your fault. I found the original letter though which meant that it had been given back to you.
I waited until I was 18 years old for you to feel something, show any kind of remorse for what happen to our family. But apparently you already did.
I thought you always blamed me for not being perfect enough. For not being smart enough and I thought you hated me for staying with mum. But you had already told me that it wasn’t my fault. None of it was.
I was a very angry 10-year-old girl who thought you had just disappeared for 3 months without a second thought. I assumed because you didn’t try to communicate with us or show any sign of trying to fix the brokenness that you didn’t think about me. It seemed like you just moved on with your life then came back and decided to make our lives a living hell for ruining your “perfect” life. But you already said that you missed me and spending time with me. You left phone numbers and ways to get in contact with you.
For whatever reason that this letter wasn’t given to me. . Let me tell what a difference it would’ve made for 10-year-old me, even 14 years later.
I would’ve been angry at first. More than likely thrown the letter away at the thought you were just trying to win your way back in. It would’ve have been just words on paper. But I know this without a shadow of doubt.
That that letter would have been read and re-read thousands of times till I could quote it. It would be torn and worn, the creases starting to tear. It would’ve have been one of my most treasure possessions and it would have made it harder to hate you. It would have helped me understand. On the nights where I sobbed my heart out or days where I was so angry, it would have helped. Knowing that you were sorry. knowing that you were getting help. Just knowing the fact that you still wanted me and I was not abandoned. Oh how that could have helped my little heart start to heal.
You sent other letters. But by then the damage was done and it was too late. But this letter. This was the very first. The one I waited my entire life for.
It didnt change the abuse or manipulation you put us through. It doesn’t change how vengeant you were towards us. It doesn’t change my decision to not include you in my life. But what it does change is… I can’t even describe it. When I think of me at 10 years old. When my life had literally fallen apart, I had 3 siblings that clung to me to protection and reassurance. I now know that you weren’t out to hurt us, you hadn’t forgotten us, but most of all. You were sorry.
I know that you’ll probably never see this and I’m ok with that. I don’t want a relationship with you but I just want you to know that I got your letter.