Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

I remember the day I found out you had a stroke. I had just gotten back from my boyfriend's cottage and mom pulled me into her room to talk. Once she told me the news I cried and cried. I didn’t understand why I was so upset. You were (and still are) the person who has hurt me most in my life. You stole my childhood and replaced it with trauma. You took everything from me, but here I was, grieving for you (It’s a strange feeling loving someone who has hurt you so much).

Once I saw you I quickly realized that everything that made you, YOU, was gone. You couldn’t hold your fork, your speech was slurred, and you needed care around the clock. You were now trapped in your own body (some may say this is karmic justice), the strong man I once knew, gone…

I tried so hard to remember your laugh (man oh man, did I love your laugh), but like everything over time…it fades. I don’t remember it at all anymore; I don’t even know what you looked like before dying…all I have are a few photos and faded memories.

The day you had the stroke was the day I truly lost YOU.

Till next time,

Dear Dad,

I hope you’re at peace wherever you are. I hope you have finally found happiness and peace in your heart.

As a child I was full of resentment towards you…there was never an ounce of compassion or understanding. I was too young to understand the family dynamics and what generational trauma and abuse even meant. As an adult, my perspective has shifted a bit. Am I still resentful? Angry? Sad? Hurt? Confused? Of course, I am, and probably always will be. What has changed though, is I now know it’s never just “black and white”…there are always grey areas.

I often imagine you as a child and my heart hurts. You were innocent and deserved much more than what you got. You deserved a chance to be who you were born to be. I’m sorry that was stolen from you. I hope somewhere deep inside of yourself you knew you deserved better…because when you were good… you were GREAT.

I wish I could have held you in my arms while you passed away. I would have kissed your forehead and rubbed your hair while holding you. I would have held you as you held me when I was born. I would have told you all the great things about you that I loved. I would have told you I love you because I don’t think you knew.

I wish you knew.

Till next time…

It has been 19 weeks and 1 day since you passed away…or at least I think it has been.

I knew the day would come. My husband Samuel would randomly bring it up while laying in bed sometimes. He would ask me if I would go to your funeral (when the news came that you had passed away). I would always reply with an easy answer of, “I don’t know.” I would think of different scenarios from time to time (about how I would find out and what I would say or do) but not once did I ever imagine I would find out via a Facebook message from someone I had never met… sending me condolences for my loss.

I screamed…over and over and over again.

I haven’t seen or talked to you in over 10 years … but that didn’t change the pain I felt. I sometimes wonder if Samuel thought my reaction was strange; because of why we haven’t talked. I wonder if you would have thought it was strange too.

I don’t know what happens when someone dies, but I hope you can see this somehow.

I’m told journaling can help with depression and anxiety…so I’m going to start. I hope you don’t mind me bringing you along for the ride. I don’t promise it to be sunshine and rainbows all of the time… but it will be honest and real.

I never got to say goodbye to you.

We never got to make things right.

There will never be closure.

All I have is THIS.

Till next time…