Dear Dad, who erased my name from my birth certificate after one day of life
Dear Dad, who taught me that life on earth was a vale of tears
Dear Dad, who taught me that people are basically bad
Dear Dad, who dismissed all that was positive and punished all that was deemed to be negative
Dear Dad, who taught me to be seen and not heard and preferably not seen either.
Dear Dad, who yelled at me if I brought you your beer with slightly too much foam
Dear Dad, who taught me that celebration was bad, birthdays, irrelevant and presents evil
Dear Dad who mandated that I never accept food from any friend’s parents
Dear Dad, who tried to teach me that the only good thing about living was dying where we might receive our reward in heaven if we were good.
Dear Dad, who never came to my weddings, or shows.
Dear Dad who always made sure there was just enough food and just enough clothes.
Dear Dad who worked resentfully through life to ensure we were given the joyless basics.
Dear Dad who needed to drink beer and whiskey all of the time
Dear Dad who sang in the choir
Dear Dad who went away to retreat one week a year, a time in which we crammed a year full of irresponsible celebrations.
Dear Dad, whose mother died when you were three, whose father left shortly thereafter to live on the streets, who grandparents made you work on the farm.
Dear Dad, who left home at the age of 15 for the Navy when you didn’t know how to swim.
Dear Dad, who loved my mom in your own unhelpful way so she did not love you.
Dear Dad, who must have known that you were not my dad at all and still did everything you could for me and never let on.
Dear Dad, who I feared and felt rejected by, who I never really understood.
Dear Dad, who I never thanked for all of your hard work. All of your hard life.
Dear Dad, I hope the reward-after-life thing worked out
Dear Dad, who apparently turned nice after you had a stroke.
Dear Dad, I’m sorry I never really got to know you, or understand you, or like you.
Dear Dad, Thank you. Thank you for doing what you could.
Your son, whose name is Daniel and not Bob.
— DanielSouthGate
Dear Dad, who taught me that life on earth was a vale of tears
Dear Dad, who taught me that people are basically bad
Dear Dad, who dismissed all that was positive and punished all that was deemed to be negative
Dear Dad, who taught me to be seen and not heard and preferably not seen either.
Dear Dad, who yelled at me if I brought you your beer with slightly too much foam
Dear Dad, who taught me that celebration was bad, birthdays, irrelevant and presents evil
Dear Dad who mandated that I never accept food from any friend’s parents
Dear Dad, who tried to teach me that the only good thing about living was dying where we might receive our reward in heaven if we were good.
Dear Dad, who never came to my weddings, or shows.
Dear Dad who always made sure there was just enough food and just enough clothes.
Dear Dad who worked resentfully through life to ensure we were given the joyless basics.
Dear Dad who needed to drink beer and whiskey all of the time
Dear Dad who sang in the choir
Dear Dad who went away to retreat one week a year, a time in which we crammed a year full of irresponsible celebrations.
Dear Dad, whose mother died when you were three, whose father left shortly thereafter to live on the streets, who grandparents made you work on the farm.
Dear Dad, who left home at the age of 15 for the Navy when you didn’t know how to swim.
Dear Dad, who loved my mom in your own unhelpful way so she did not love you.
Dear Dad, who must have known that you were not my dad at all and still did everything you could for me and never let on.
Dear Dad, who I feared and felt rejected by, who I never really understood.
Dear Dad, who I never thanked for all of your hard work. All of your hard life.
Dear Dad, I hope the reward-after-life thing worked out
Dear Dad, who apparently turned nice after you had a stroke.
Dear Dad, I’m sorry I never really got to know you, or understand you, or like you.
Dear Dad, Thank you. Thank you for doing what you could.
Your son, whose name is Daniel and not Bob.
— DanielSouthGate
I love this. Thank you. Evocative for me.
ReplyDeleteWow. What layers and invitations to the senses to experience your childhood and growing years! Graceful and passionate.
ReplyDelete"Dear Dad, I hope the reward-after-life thing worked out..." Oh, yes. Very apt. He sounds as if he did not get much solace from his beliefs. Interesting that you, Daniel, once pursued the religious life. You have such versatility as a writer. This piece was sad, but rich. (Macoff)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Macoff! Persuing the religious life at 13 provided a convenient way to leave home.
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