Dear Dad,
To be honest, I don't even know if I should call you that. You see, a dad is someone who is a part of a family and you no longer fit that anymore. It's been over 9 years since you left. 9 years since you drove up the street on that cold December night and never came back. Did you see me looking out the window? And when I couldn't see your car anymore did you know that I couldn't get off the floor and stop myself from crying? I guess you didn't, because if you did then you would still be in my life and I wouldn't have to write this. So here we are, when all is said and done, and there are some things I need to say after keeping them in for all these years.
When you were still in my life, I always knew that I wasn't the most important person to you-- heck I didn't even come close to it. Because the most important thing to you wasn't a person, it was beer. You gave it attention, smothered it in love and always made sure it came first. It was everything you were supposed to do for me that I never got. I felt like I always had to compete for your love and attention because you never gave it to me. It was a long and slow battle I realized too late that I would never be able to win. For me, being labeled "Daddy's little girl" was never attainable.
But I wasn't the only one who felt left out of your life-- you made sure Mom and my brother were included too. You were never one to disappoint when it came to hurting us-- I liked to think you enjoyed doing it. Or maybe it was the beer doing it instead. At least, that's the excuse we would use all the time. "Daddy can't go out with us again, he's out drinking with his friends instead." Did you ever stop to think how much that hurt us? We never did anything as a family because you never wanted to. But we knew there was no use in fighting you about it, we knew it wouldn't get resolved. So we watched you go in and out of our lives. You went from being a father to an uninvited guest just taking up space.
You said you were going to quit drinking, and I wanted nothing more than to believe you. I wanted to have my dad back, the one before who didn't let drinking control his life. The dad who would let me ride on his lawn mower with him and put me on his shoulders so I could get closer to touching the sky. But those dreams I pictured in my head would always stay there and never come true because you were all talk and no show. I knew you were lying about saying you were quitting-- I may have been young but I wasn't stupid. I knew Dunkin Donuts coffee cups weren't supposed to smell like beer and the empty glass bottles I found in the garage weren't old ones because the scent was still too strong. The worst part was you never owned up to your mistakes and lies and when Mom found out my brother and I weren't allowed to drive with you anymore. But instead of ending the drinking there once and for all, you chose to drive by yourself.
I tend to think back to the last time I saw you. It was a month after you left and all we did was sit in complete silence. It was in that moment I realized that the person sitting across from me, who helped bring me into this world and was supposed to love me, was nothing more than a stranger. After that day I promised myself that I never wanted to see you again.
Fast forward to today and I have still not broken that promise. As much as I am content with the life I have now, there are still times I look back and imagine how different my life would have been if you didn't choose beer over me. You would have been to every one of my soccer games, volleyball games and dance recitals. You would have seen me go to prom and walk across the stage to receive my high school diploma. Move me into college and bring me out for my first drink, all while still being able to function like a normal, responsible person. You wouldn't have to send me a card on Christmas and my birthday every year because you would be here to celebrate it. Even though you still do that I never respond to you because a piece of paper with words means nothing to me. I wouldn't have to call Father's Day Second Mother's Day or have to avoid the greeting card section that entire month because I would have a dad to celebrate it with. But I have now come to accept that you won't see me graduate college, wish me luck on my first day of my "big girl" job, or even walk me down the aisle when I get married.
But you see Dad, I don't need you for those things because I have Mom for that. In fact, I always had her for everything. Because while you were busy drinking and destroying our family little by little, Mom was right behind you picking up the pieces and fitting it all back together. And she did, but this time you weren't a part of it.
Maybe you won't ever read this, or maybe you will and it will make you rethink what you did. Because I still have these questions that linger in the back of my mind. Why couldn't you stop drinking? Why couldn't you be a good father? Why was I not enough for you to want to quit? But even though I may never get the answers to them, I want you to know something.
Dad, I forgive you for leaving and I want to thank you too. Because if it wasn't for you doing that, I wouldn't be the incredibly happy and optimistic person I am today. I hope one day you can quit your drinking, not for me but for yourself.
Love,
Your not so little girl
