A Letter to My Father That He Will Never Read

TRIGGER WARNING: child abuse (physical, emotional)

I can’t even look in your eyes without feeling sick. When I see you, I see all the times you yelled at me, all the times you weren’t there.

You criticized me. Made me feel small. I was scared of you. And you were too busy to love me. Was I not important enough to you?

I have spent many nights wondering what was wrong with me. The silent tears that drenched my pillow told the story I couldn’t tell myself. Maybe I was broken. Maybe it’s my fault.

When I tried to run away, you dragged me from the window and beat me. I think something in me died that day.

You were supposed to protect me. But instead I can no longer trust anyone. No one will ever get close.

It has taken me years to learn to let my guard down. And I still don’t know how to do it. I am left malnourished; starved for approval and love. Looking for what I desperately need in all the wrong places. I worry it will take me the rest of my life to overcome this.

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Sometimes when I get mad at my dog, I see your anger boiling within me. The apple has to fall far from the tree. But I worry it didn’t. And I hate you for that.

But I can’t hate you, because you’re my Dad. You say you love me, but I never felt it. And if I didn’t feel your love, how could I feel God’s?

I tell myself that you were doing your best. But your best wasn’t good enough. And I’m left picking up the pieces. Maybe I should disappear. Maybe I’ll move far away and never come back. If I ever have kids of my own, I will be a good dad. I will be nothing like you.

Such a terrible thought. I want to forgive you. I want to love you. But I don’t know how. I can’t hide the disappointment in my eyes. I know you see it too. I try and tell you how I feel. And the truth hurts. Why can’t we stop hurting each other?

You’re older now, and I can see it. More tired. More burdened. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of a scared little boy. He looks familiar, though. I wonder, did Grandpa beat you too?

I pray to forgive you. I pray that I’ll have a chance to be a Dad — so maybe I can right those wrongs. I hope it’s not too late. I hope we can move past the past.

You’ve taught me many lessons — some I wish I could’ve learned another way. Then again, I am the man I am because of you.

So thank you, Dad.

I love you. I’m trying to.