Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Father

fa·ther

Noun: A man in relation to his natural child or children.

...And that's all he is to me, a man in relation.
He was never there growing up, never there emotionally, physically, financially, never there when I needed him.

This post, I am going to write a letter to my Dad, and to my father. They are two different people. And for everybody who doesn't know my story, I will give you a very brief glimpse at how complicated my family really is.

My mom's a lesbian. I wasn't planned AT ALL.
My "father" didn't want me and chose not to be a part of my life. 
My Dad adopted me when I was 5. It was one of the best things to happen to me.
Unfortunately, he died when I was 11. One of the worst days of my life.

Dear Frank(father),
I despise you. I wouldn't say I hate you, because a part of me loves you. I love you for giving me life. I love you for allowing my Dad to adopt me. I love you for giving me the most amazing brother in the world. I hate you for being immature when he was born and allowing what happened to him, happen. I hate you for not wanting me when I was born, but now that I'm older I am happy. I love you for my two beautiful sisters, even if they don't know me anymore.
I love that because of everything you have put me through, I am the person I am today.
I wish that you would grow up and acknowledge my existence. I'm here ya know? I don't want you, you don't want me. Great. Perfect, but can't we be civil? Talk once a year, make sure we're alive...all the good stuff. But nope. You'd rather go years between talking. Fine. I officially give up on you. But I swear to you, I refuse to give up on my brother. I love him to much.
Sincerely, with a big 'ol Screw You,
Meghan

Dear Michael/Mike/Mikey(dad),
How could this happen? Why did you have to leave me? You are one of the most amazing men I have ever met. You have touched the lives of so many people. On May 8th, it will be eight years without you. Some days it take everything I have in me to even function without you, and some days, I barely remember you. That scares me to death. What if one day I wake up, and I can't remember you? Sometimes I can smell you, and for people who think it is linked to something specific, it isn't. I was 11 when you died. And I don't remember enough about you to be able to pin-point a smell. Sometimes I just know you're here. You give me so much strength Dad. You are my inspiration. I want to live, and live the most fulfilled life I can. But by my standards. Not societies. Just like you did. I miss you Dad, and I would do anything to bring you back. I'm sorry I can't visit your grave this year. I can't afford to fly home for the weekend. But know, that wherever I am, I am always thinking about you. Your picture is on my cork board alongside the ornament I got "from you" or Christmas. There is not a day I don't think about you.
I love you so much, Your daughter,
Meghan

3 comments:

pierreroxsmyworld said...

You know we can always visit his grave when you come back. It's okay to be a little late. Ohio weather sucks anyways! We'll have a picnic when it's a little warmer outside.

Kristina said...

How much better do you feel writing out those letters? That took a lot of guts. Stay strong hun!

Meghan said...

Thank you Kristina! It feels good to let it all out, I've felt this way for years!