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My relationship with my parents has had its good moments and its bad ones. This is a work in progress…a letter to my dad. I doubt it’ll ever get sent to him because he won’t understand it. Here’s hoping someone does…

Dad,

I hate it when we argue. I didn’t write this to hurt you or to make you feel guilty. I’m writing it to try to help you understand how I feel. Please listen. Please try to see where I’m coming from.

I love you with all my heart. I love you unconditionally. Every night I pray that you could love me half as much. I used to think you hung the moon. You were my Superman…my “big daddy.” No one has shown me the kindness and love that you showed me when you adopted me and chose to be my dad. Not many kids get to say that. 14 years later you tore my whole world apart the day you decided you didn’t want a family and left. I didn’t understand then and now, 6 years later, I still don’t understand. I’m still mad at you. I’m 23 and it still hurts just as bad as it did when I was 16.

Part of me wants so badly to hate you, to not care whether you’re alright or not, to not ever want to see or hear from you again. As much as it kills me to say it, I still want you to want me–and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for holding on to an image of you that is false. I hate myself for welcoming you with open arms every time you come to town. I hate myself for caring so much.

It’s true, you have to give someone the power to hurt you. No one can hurt you without your permission. I don’t know how to take that permission away from you. It shouldn’t still hurt when you choose other women over us. It shouldn’t still hurt when you hold your wants over our needs. I should be used to it by now. I’m not a little girl anymore. I shouldn’t still be waiting by the phone for you to call or checking the mail for letters from you…but I do. Every day I check my email hoping you’ve written, apologizing for hurting me and wanting to try to fix things. When I talk to mom, I always ask if she knows when you’re coming home to visit. I still hold on, hoping you’ll come to your senses and apologize for all the pain you’ve caused.

I’m not sorry for the last email I sent you. I’m not sorry for being mad at you for not coming to see us when you were on leave from Iraq.

I am sorry that you can’t recognize the anger of a hurt child when you see it. I’m sorry that you’re missing out on our lives. I’m sorry you can’t see how much I love you and how badly I need you in my life.

Love,

Me