Letter To Dad

It's weird because out of all the years that my dad was in prison and wrote to me, I maybe only read four or five of his letters. Though I tried, I only wrote back maybe three or four times. Each time was an attempt for me to forgive him and love the man that my mother loved, I mean if he was still there. In the sixteen years that he was in prison, not once did I tell him how I really felt. As a man that is. I've been an angry child and yelled my point, calling him by his first name and all.

But, now, I realize that I was going about trying to forgive him the wrong way. I was trying to make him sorry, and I was trying to make him hurt for not being there for me. Problem is, you can't guilt someone for being them, you can't make someone be sorry for something that they simply are not sorry for.

So, in order for me to let go of the hate and anger that his absence helped create I decided to speak to him as a man. I decided to write a letter I knew I'd never send. A letter that would make me think, why I am really hurt by his absence? 

And so I began my...

Letter 2 Dad

Dear Dad,

                 It's been a long while. You left before I was a child and didn't look back leaving Momma to pick up all the slack. 

But, I'm not mad that Momma had to be Dad. She was the one who taught me how to stand up and pee. "It's just like when you're sitting down..." "..."Aim baby, don't let it hit the ground." 

I remember all the encouraging things she'd say like it was yesterday. It should have been you and me; not Momma who taught me to climb a tree. I was supposed to be your little Tyke. 

Why did Momma have to teach me to ride a bike? 

Every time I fell down she'd be right next to me on the ground saying, "Baby Momma loves you," then she'd kiss my boo-boo. 

"Get up boy; you okay," I think that's what you'd say. 

But you weren't there at all. It was Momma who taught me how to throw a ball. 

You should have helped me build my model toy. Instead, Momma taught me how to be a boy. 

It should have been you, alright? Not Momma who taught me how to fight. "Hands up, chin in," she'd say. "Don't come home if you don't win."

But whether I won or lost it was Momma who paid the cost. She'd wipe my face clean of dirt and cry as if she was hurt. And when the summers were hot and grim, it was Momma who taught me how to swim.

It should have been you if you know what I mean? But Momma showed me how to be a teen.

There was some much you were supposed to teach me about. Instead, Momma showed me how to ask a girl out. 

"Look her in the eyes and tell her how you've felt.." "Relax baby, be yourself." And Momma stayed up late to drive me around on my first date. You and I should have had, "The Talk," if you know where I'm coming from? Momma should not have had to show me how to use a condom. 

You should have helped me conquer my irrational fears and gave me my first sip of beer. You should have taught me how to survive and showed me how to drive.

But Momma did, she took care of it. I guess it was actually good Momma raising me the best way she could and being Mommy and Dad. I wouldn't take the chance to think, that, anyone could balance. Only Momma could be tough and loving at the same time. Give you all the slack you want yet keeps you in line. Something I don't think a dad could do alone; teach you how to be a man and maintain home. 

You were gone and she did it all, everything, even helped me pick out a ring. 

Although it should have been you first hand. It was Momma who taught me how to be a man.

Son