Dear Dad,

 

My hope is that this letter finds you.

 

It’s been a long time coming that I’ve wanted to send you a letter. I’ve mulled over the things I would put in this letter and several times it led me to say things like “go fuck yourself” or “fuck you”.

 

Honestly, I don’t even think you deserve that.

 

I suppose I can count on you to read this entire letter; I think it’s the least you can do, but perhaps you will be a coward and throw it out.

Just know that by the end, you will know exactly where I stand.
 

I spent the better part of my childhood resentful and angry because of the way you treated me and my family.

 

I describe it as the big dump on my life.

 

You took a huge, vile dump on the lives of me and my family and then left … and you sit there and expect us to receive this pile of shit with open arms saying “thank you!”

No matter how much you try to lie to the people around you and convince yourself that this pile of shit is somehow a gift from your high and mighty self … we know the truth.

 

We were there.

 

We smelled the shit for so many years, watching it fester and collect maggots on our lives, that we’ve finally grown tired and have taken a shovel and cracked the crust - exposing all the putrid and foul things that you’ve tried so hard to bury and hide.

 

I used to be afraid to tell people the things you had done. As if you would know somehow that I was exposing our families dark little secret. In reality, it was just the shit beneath the surface of your façade.

 

That shit was not our fault. It was never our fault. Nor was it deserved.

 

In this realization, exposing you has slowly freed me. When I realized that your disgusting and vile behaviour was not normal and wasn’t anyone's fault but your own ... Telling people who you really are has shown me who I really am.

I am not proud of some of the things I’ve said or done while you were around. I realize now that I did them because I wanted to save myself and my family from the harm you would cause if we didn’t cower beneath you.

I want you to know that I am a feminist.

I hate Trump.

I think he’s a deceitful joke of a human being and it makes sense why you praised his existence.

Listening to you spout your hateful beliefs about women, LGBTQ2+ people, and those from different races other than your own, while demanding your family to bow before you and help spread your hate for fear of chaos, was poison to our family.

You are a destructive presence.

Like a parasite that feeds and grows fat on the pain of others.

 

I want you to know that I am proud of my sister.

 

She protected us. She bore the worst of it.

She is my rock and shield.

It is amazing to see how strong and beautiful she has become, and not because of you.

 

You do not get to take the credit for the successes of mom’s children.

You do not get to bear the name Father.

 

I have learned so much from the education mom paid for.

She continues to nourish and support the excellence of her children.

 

My brother and sister continue to be successful because of the resilience and strength they have built on their own and because of mom’s unconditional love.

I have graduated and am working at a women’s shelter as the result of the fruits of moms labour.

 

I continue to be successful because I am not afraid to stare adversity in the face and call it by its name.

 

Abuser.

 

To me, you are like all the other abusers I’ve encountered, and I will never take back the day I first called you an abuser.

 

That is what you are.

 

You are not special.

 

Every mean, hurtful, horrible thing you ever said or did is just like all the other piles of shit abusers are making.

 

The beauty of it all is that wherever the steaming shit lands, growth flourishes.

 

Me, my mom, sister, and brother are all flourishing.

 

I am proud of my brother.

 

He is going to be the man that you never could be, and I know that he will despite the pain you have caused him.

My hope is that one day he will let you go, just as I have.

You are the only thing that weighs him down.

 

I am so proud of my mom.

 

You were right. I did always want her to leave you.

You thought she was weak, that you’d be able to drain her forever, but you should see her now.

 

She has blossomed into the woman she has always been. You were the only thing hindering her growth.

 

You were like a cold wind that almost snuffed out her flame.

Or ivy that almost suffocates a beautiful tree … but is torn away from her delicate bark. Leaving wounds.

 

You’ve made your wounds.

But wounds heal.

 

We will grow while you wither away from our lives.

 

I could have laid out in writing all the horrible memories you implanted into my brain but that is not the point. The purpose of this letter isn’t for validation, to hurt you, or prove a point.

 

In writing this letter, I set myself free.

 

I don’t want to hold on to anger and resentment anymore. That will only poison me and the people I love.

Then I would turn out just like you.

 

But I am not you.

 

I am the product of a mother who wanted a family so badly that she was willing to sacrifice herself for the dream that never could be.

 

You may be a part of my DNA but you are not my father.

The title of Father isn’t given to men who have kids, it’s earned in the eyes of his children.

 

So, as the man who was a significant part of my life, I want to thank you.

 

The darkness you created only helped me find the light.

 

I am loving.

I am smarter.

I am clever.

I am no longer scared.

I am at peace.

 

You will not be a part of my life.

You will not be a part of my children’s lives.

 

I am proud of myself.

 

The world has become so much more promising and delightful since you’ve left.

 

I believe in second chances and forgiveness, but there are only so many chances and one can only be forgiven so many times.

 

I am finally allowing myself to shovel the last of the shit pile.

 

You will no longer poison our lives and you won’t get the chance to poison your grandchildren’s lives.

 

Just know that we all know who you really are.

 

We are no longer afraid of you.

 

Money will only bring you happiness for a short while.

As you grow old and sick, reaching your hands out for one last ounce of compassion. Just know that your money won’t be holding your hand or giving you words of comfort.

 

Just know

 

that I will not be reaching back.

 

 

 

-from the daughter you said talked too much