Dear Dad...

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Dear Dad,

When I was young I always used to wonder where you were. In the playground I would look at the other children with their dads; holding hands, smiling, and laughing and wonder why mine didn’t do that too? There were days when I would sit on my grandad’s lap and hug him tightly never wanting to let go, whilst knowing that even though he loved me; I wasn’t his daughter, but his granddaughter. As I grew up, I waited for the day that you would show me that you truly cared and loved me, but you never did. When I was young, I craved for someone to plait my hair and run around with; but you weren’t interested in anything but lying to me, hurting me and seeing me cry; as if you got a twisted pleasure out of it.

As I got older I was embarrassed by you, the arrogant tone of your voice, your stance, the way you treated everyone like dirt and mostly when you lied to my face. Your lack of intelligence and humility astounded me and I found it hard to believe that in fact, I was really your daughter. I felt worthless when you complained about paying for me; you were a hypocrite and betrayed the closest bond that is possible; one of your own flesh and blood.

I stopped feeling angry for you and started feeling sorry for you; what a lonely old man you must be now with nobody to love. You may have saved you money, but there are some things which you will never experience; you will never see me graduate, neither will you watch me fall in love or get married; you will never see your grandchildren or feel their innocent eyes filled with love for you, but remember dad, you will never receive love because you never gave it.

Your visits decreased from twice a year to phone calls once a month; your birthday presents changed from pencils and stickers, to fridge magnets. On my sixteenth birthday, I was worth nothing more than an email. I knew you never cared, but that was the day it dawned on me; especially when you told me that you were a 300% father, as far as I was and still am concerned, you are a stranger, nothing more, and nothing less to me, than the people whom I sit next to on the train every day.

Dad, I’m a young woman now and its okay, I know that you don’t care and that you don’t love me; that you never have and never will, and the truth is that I’m beyond caring. I cried and wept, swore and shouted but now I understand; some people just weren’t born to be parents, you’re obviously just one of them. You tried to break me, but you didn’t, you hurt me and the wounds went so deep that I thought they wouldn’t recover – but they did; you tried to ignite anger – but you failed

Dad, you can twist me, turn me, push me and pull me, hurt me and lie as much as you like, but I am telling you one last time, you will never, ever break me.

To my grandad who raised me like a father, you are the most inspirational man I know, and I love you. Thank-you for being there, always.

To all the children who have been in similar situations, you are never alone.





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