Dad, you were wrong. You were wrong my entire life and you’re still wrong. You were wrong in the way you raised me, you were wrong in the things you said to me, expected of me, did not necessarily to me but things you did. It’s important for you to recognize not only that fact, but also that it can’t be undone, won’t be forgiven, won’t be forgotten.
During that time you were in the nursing home when I visited you, talked to you and humored you, you were still not forgiven. I decided to be the good child, the one of us that you were horrible to that decided not to isolate you. I don’t know what motivated me to do that, but I did, maybe so I could be better than Sam, maybe so you wouldn’t think so little of me as you do Sam, I don’t know but I did. I didn’t want to come downstairs that night to say goodbye because I would’ve preferred no goodbye rather than a negative one, but Mom told me to come downstairs so I did and I didn’t say everything I wanted to say to you or Tracy but I said enough.
Tracy is a joke to us because we all think she’s certifiably insane but you don’t think so and that makes you more pathetic than we already thought you were. You are.
Dad, at this point I don’t even care if you’re reading this because this post is more for me than you so read it if you want, I give exactly 0 shits what you do.
I wish I had a father figure. An actual father figure. Someone who cares about me and my feelings, my safety, someone that can be proud of me, teach me things, admit when he’s wrong and apologize all in a superior but not demeaning way because even when I did have a “father” he was none of those things and was incapable of any of that.
My mom’s girlfriend’s father is someone I like to think of as a father figure. I’ve honestly only met the guy a couple times but he’s a damn fine person with a sense of humor I can get behind and a kind demeanor.
Funny how even someone I barely know can make a better father to me than mine could for 15 years. Maybe this is dramatic but having someone who doesn’t make me feel like shit to watch over me would be nice once in a while.
Dad, I don’t know if you’ll read this but I wanted to tell you I hate you. This isn’t in a fit of rage and I’m just feeling it now, this isn’t an angsty teenage “Oh my gawd, Dad, I hate you,” this is a genuine expression of how I feel toward you. I hate you. You probably aren’t taking this seriously, either, but that’s one reason why I hate you. You treat me like I’m not really a person because I’m young or because I’m your daughter and you can spin me this crap that the brain isn’t fully formed until your twenties but that doesn’t mean you can keep going on like what I say doesn’t hold any weight.
I think you can recognize you’ve been a bad father. I don’t think you’re so oblivious to think you haven’t, but you need to know I hate you for it. I hate you for fucking me up, I hate you for scarring me, I hate you for giving me stereotypical daddy issues (I used to like to think my issues were more creative than that), I hate you for not apologizing when you should have, I appreciate that you eventually apologized to me and I believe that you meant it but that can’t stop me from hating you.
What I hate the most is that you’re not a horrible person. You’re narcissistic and selfish and rude and mean but I don’t think you mean to be mean when you are but despite that you’re not an absolutely horrible person, you’re just a bad father and I’m sorry I can’t appreciate as much how you’re not a bad guy because of what you’ve done to me and Sam (even though I know she hates me I can’t ignore that you’ve fucked her up too). I’m sorry I hate you, I really am, but I do.
Dad, this is Franki. We told Sam you saw her post about wishing you were dead. She is extremely upset because you’re not taking it the way she meant it and you’re telling people about it to make her seem like a bad guy and that’s not okay. Mom has said she felt the same way sometimes that it would be easier if you were already gone. She meant that the longer you live the more stress there is coping with your illness, the suspense is building up to the day you die, you’re a very stressful person to deal with in person. I feel the same way. This doesn’t mean mom and I necessarily wish you were dead, but we recognize it would be easier to deal with the grief of having lost you to death rather than dealing with this stress, this anticipation.
I feel bad for saying this, but sometimes when you’re being particularly thick I do wish you were gone already, and I feel ashamed, but you are not an especially wonderful person but you refuse to recognize your mistakes or apologize. You have yet to apologize for anything.
All our lives, you have degraded and bullied Sam and me. You have unrealistic expectations, you make rude comments that hurt us, you took your frustration about losing your legs out on us, you criticize the way we look, you try to intimidate us for respect but what have you don to earn that respect? You worked for us to live in a house and have food and we appreciate that, but we feel as though you have not supported us as fathers are supposed to. You don’t get respect for having fucked mom and made a couple of babies.
You have not apologized for anything.
You have not apologized for that time you treated me like a nurse and yelled at me when I couldn’t operate your urinal for you, you have not apologized for degrading my eighth grade graduation despite the fact that making it through middle school was my proudest accomplishment because of how difficult it was mentally for me, you have not apologized for saying I am getting help that I “want” and I think that hurts the most.
Do you not understand that I was hurting myself? Do you not realize I almost killed myself because I felt that there was no other way? Do you not realize I have clinical depression worse than yours? Do you not realize my OCD, though we joke about it, coupled with my anxiety produce lengths of compulsive thoughts that make me cry because I feel like I can’t control what goes on in my own head?
This is not help that I “want,” this is help that I need and you come up most often in my therapy conversations and I know that if Sam would agree to go to therapy it would be the same for her.
She is not just scared that you will judge her for leaving college, she is angry that you have degraded her and hurt her but you have not apologized and you do not seem to realize that you’ve done anything wrong. We are scarred by you. I have not forgiven you, I just don’t want to block you out when I know you probably won’t make it to my high school graduation and now you’re moving to Pittsburgh.
I for one feel like you are deciding to die with this woman you have been involved with less than a year rather than your children. I know you can’t stay here for more reasons than that but the fact that you didn’t think you needed to explain that yourself makes me feel like you care less about us and while I can’t say I expected much more from you, it still stings a bit.
I’m sorry if you feel hurt by Sam’s post or by this, but it’s how we feel.