Dear Father...

Dear Father... Dear Father...

Status: Finished

Genre: True Confessions

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: True Confessions

Summary

I wrote this a few years ago in the hope of finding the confidence to give it to my Dad face to face, sit with him while he read it, and begin a calm and rational dialogue. I hoped to find the perfect moment, but of course it has never come, and now I feel that his age and health makes my need for resolution selfish, so yet again I have left words unspoken, emotions locked away and will never have my answer. I am sharing them here now, for the first time since they were written. Their release will perhaps release my need to find an ending...

Summary

I wrote this a few years ago in the hope of finding the confidence to give it to my Dad face to face, sit with him while he read it, and begin a calm and rational dialogue. I hoped to find the perfect moment, but of course it has never come, and now I feel that his age and health makes my need for resolution selfish, so yet again I have left words unspoken, emotions locked away and will never have my answer. I am sharing them here now, for the first time since they were written. Their release will perhaps release my need to find an ending...

Content

Submitted: March 30, 2018

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: March 30, 2018

A A A

A A A


 

Madonna asked hers not to preach at her, Jesus asked his to forgive.

All I ask is you love me, but you struggle just letting me live.

You say that I was a rebellious kid, that I made it too hard to get close;

You sure gave up easy is all I can say, and your kids you should always love most.

But I think it got harder to love me, as I grew into a person with rights,

A person who wouldn't be put down or told...it was harder to listen than fight.

We argued and bickered so often, that it became a normal part of life;

Your views and opinions so bigoted, that I hurt for the world and his wife.

 

The Blacks and the Asians were top of the list, closely followed by The Youth of Today.

I heard the words daily, they're ingrained in my mind: "It's all the rest, not that George, he's ok!"

It felt as if you held me responsible for the state of the world and its lot,

The blame for all ills lay squarely with me, and the guilt of it I never forgot.

The nights I went out and didn't come home, the times you called me a whore;

Did you ever consider that each little name just made me stay out even more?

The grass in not greener, that's all just a myth, created by those who want more,

But it sure was more fun than sitting at home, watching you drink yourself to the floor.

 

"I've only had one, I'm not bloody drunk", was the cry that I heard from your lips.

But I watched, as the one became a bottle or two; worried as you seemed to lose your grip.

Reality is something I don't think you've seen, except through that drink induced haze;

You laugh at the fun that you thought people had, but for us the humiliation stayed days.

You always said that we didn't really love you, your girls, my sister and I;

We loved you, but never could show it, though it never occured to you why.

The Dad I remember was lovely...handsome, healthy, witty and kind;

He'd come home all dirty and tired, but still play with us, never seeming to mind.

 

I remember those days with such longing and ask myself where did they go?

I wondered, and questionned for answers, and I think now I'm starting to know.

Jack Daniels may have had a hand in it, or was it the Scotch or the Malt?

How often I've tried to make you see sense...but you take it and throw it like salt.

There were times when I tried to be patient, and my tongue held the words unspoken,

But oft times it was too bloody difficult, and the peace in the house became broken.

The shouting and yelling was mutual, I don't hold you always to blame,

But I grew with a distrust of conflict, and my confidence slowly grew lame.

 

The mistakes that I made I admit now; they are gone, so far in the past.

But you never will see that you did wrong, you tell us you're right to the last.

I'm trying to build a new life now, to move on and put it behind me.

I want to be whole and complete, so I can be the best person I can be.

So Dad, I'm writing this to you...not as an accusation or laying the blame,

But as a way of saying Please Father, can we be honest, and try this again?

It's not often in life you get second chances, but I believe they're given for a reason,

So I offer this olive branch freely, with no hidden motive or treason.

 

With the branch held unsteady there's one thing, one question I must ask before we start

Rebuilding the Daughter Dad Thingy, the one we had before we drifted apart.

With all the cross words and the insults, it seemed I never did right;

So Dad, answer me just this one question...Was there anything about me you liked?


© Copyright 2019 Marilyn Whyte. All rights reserved.

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