Happy father's day.

To the man who taught me to fish

Who taught me how to jump a car

Took me and my brother strawberry picking

Picked me up from solf ball tryouts.

Posed with me at my graduation.

Who missed almost every single choir concert.

Told me my first tattoo (which kept me from self harming) was a waste of money.

Asked if my friends were "f*gs"

Called me fat when I was 9 years old.

Told me I was ugly and unwanted.

Threatened to kill me.

Threatened to kick me out.

Threatened me.

There are parts of it that were good.

But it doesn't change the bad parts.

I'm still so afraid of you.

I want to leave but I know I can't.

Not until I go to college.

Thanks dad for all the good times.

But please, leave me alone.

Stop making me relive the trauma.

Happy father's day.

Last year I turned twenty one,

my dad thought I turned twenty.

Although he did reach out to call me,

he was three days too early.

I’ll never get to know who my mom married.

The man who helped birth me, or man lack thereof,

was a sperm donor in some ways,

a smokey heart, incapable of love.

Last week was New Years,

he wished me a happy one.

But I was still in the past,

since he forgot the time zone.

I’ll never get to know who my mom fell in love with,

the one who won her heart, but not anymore.

The woman he vowed to love forever, and swore,

to raise and protect wherever his kids were.  

Today is just another day

where I am all alone.

But my mother once told me,

as a christmas present, my mom wanted my dad to fix a old small water fountain she has. the water fountain is copper and as some slight discolor and residue on it from being in storage for so long and needs to be cleaned. my dad said he would do it, but over the past several days he has barely worked on it. he has spent more of his time sleeping and on his computer then working on the fountain. on monday, my mom was out all day and my dad barely worked on the fountain, he spent most of the day sleeping. when my mom came home and saw not much had been done with the mountain, my dad said he was too busy to work on it. that was a lie. I’m the only one who knows what he really did all day, but if i tell my mom the truth, it will start another fight and i really don’t want to break the peace that has lasted for a few weeks. 

now just today, my dad told my mom the fountain won’t be done in time for christmas because it is too time consuming for him and that he too busy with other things. bull fucking shit! if he actually spent more time working on it, it would be done in time for christmas! but no, he is just going to give his bullshit excuses he can’t do it. which proves if it is not something for myself, he won’t do it. he does not care about doing anything other then for himself. if my dad asked me to something for him and i say i can’t because I’m too busy with other things, i get called lazy and making up lame excuses.

My last note was on resentment. Specifically, resentment towards my mother. Strangely, enough, I realize that I don't have resentment towards my dad. None. But the reason is simple. It is because he wasn't even here. I have no resentment because I have no person to resent. There isn't anyone. He was just that absent. I don't know what to resent because I don't have actions from him to resent. It's just nothing. I could compare him to other fathers and say that he could've done this or been here for that like they were, but those aren't actions from him that I can resent. He was just gone, usually. Don't get me wrong. He was here a few times. He would pop in and out for short bursts, but the moments are minuscule in relation to my 26 years of life. He cooked and would drive me to and from campus but I really just need his time. All his kids did. How aloof can a father be? So, no, there's no resentment. Instead, there is just puzzlement and anger toward him. Like, what in God's name are you doing being a parent? You have no right to be a parent to kids. I do remember a time when you actually were a father though, once. You had come to visit me in Virginia. It was just you and me.  You went grocery shopping with me, cooked with me, helped me buy a car, watched TV with me. It was so freaking nice. I cry right now thinking of that weekend. I finally had a father. This is what I must feel like to have a parent and to be an only child. Dad, you didn't have to buy me expensive things or cook food all the time to show your love. You just had to be here. That's all I needed, and Jan too. And, I guess I lied a bit. I do resent you for not being here. I resent you for only that, but it is a large thing. The gap in love that your absence caused in me has shaped a lot of me actions in my life. It created an unstable emotional foundation for me that I am trying to build now, by myself. I cannot begin to go into the trauma you put my mother through. That will be another time, but know that for me, you missed out on too much and you've done enough.