1. A mom can be two parents.
When you left in ’98, you taught me that a family holds no more validation by having two parents rather than one. You showed me that while most parents would give anything for their children, some would give nothing if it didn’t directly benefit them. You taught me that it’s okay to celebrate your mom on father’s day because she assumed the responsibilities that you were too cowardly to take on for yourself. Quite honestly, she should be celebrated every day. At a young age, you taught me that a mom could be a super hero, because when you left, she not only picked up a second job and went back to school while already having a full-time career – she did it while solely raising a 7-year-old daughter. You taught me that her best was good enough because it was more than you could ever be bothered to give - because while you weren’t there for any of it, she was there for all of it.
2. Just because you’re “daddy’s little girl” doesn’t mean he’ll stick around.
I can’t begin to count the nights that I waited up for you, as you continued to make empty promises that you had no intention of keeping. You had a gift for that - stringing me along just enough to be my hero without ever performing a single selfless or heroic action. You took what you wanted without giving a single thing in return. You came just as quickly as you left – only making an appearance for the big moments, and even then your presence was never guaranteed. At the age of 7, you taught me that parents can lie – not for the sake of protecting their children, but because attending your daughter’s birthday party was a rather large inconvenience for you. You showed me what a selfish and narcissistic parent looks like, and I want to thank you for that because it is your faults that showed me what a compassionate mother looks like, too. In every area where you lacked parental benevolence and responsibility, she made up for it and more, and quite frankly, I should thank her every day for that.
3. It is possible to leave an abusive relationship.
In my sophomore year of high school, while most fathers were teaching their children how to drive, you were showing me what an abusive father looks like. You so graciously taught me that while most dads ground their children, throwing them into bedroom furniture would get your point across quicker, and you weren’t entirely wrong. That day, you did discover a rather effective method – but not one of parental punishment. You found an accelerated way of losing your family completely. You used to say that you loved me to infinity and beyond, but you certainly had a funny way of showing it. That day, you taught me one of the most valuable lessons you can learn in life; you taught me what love was not. I hope I taught you something as well. I hope I taught you that even you, a man who swears he can walk on water, will be held accountable for your actions – if not by all, at least by me.
4. Women are strong enough to take care of themselves.
I am kind, I am caring, I am compassionate; I am everything you are not, and I can confidently say that I have you to thank for it. Your actions taught me that women are strong enough to take care of themselves, because not all men are cut out to be fathers. Every value I hold myself accountable to is a side effect of your absence in my life. I am 20-years-old, I am a year away from graduating college, and I did it without you. I did a lot without you. I learned to drive without your protective parental advice coming from the passenger seat. I walked across the stage to collect my high school diploma without you cheering in the crowd. I celebrated my acceptance into every college that I applied to without you waiting anxiously as I opened up the letters. You taught me that while having a present father is preferred, it certainly isn't necessary, because you taught me that I could do it without you.
The unfortunate thing is that I know I am not alone. There are sons and daughters who will read this and know exactly what I’m talking about - for that I am certain. You are not a rarity. There are thousands of men out of there who are just like you. Perhaps you guys could start a club. Perhaps you can all rest assured, knowing that your children are capable of not only surviving, but thriving without you. This is my testimony, and while I have carried these thoughts around for years and have built my life on top of your shortcomings – I figured it was time that I share what I’ve learned from you.
