Dedicated to You

By , Wilmington, DE

After exploring the two position, I’ve come to the conclusion that  there is an enormous difference between a father and a dad. The duties of a father solely and simply entail participation in the creation of the child and sometimes a signature on a birth certificate. It doesn’t take much to be a father.  To be a dad, however, demands much more. There are many activities a dad has to do to surpass the requirements of a father but to be emotionally present for the child is the biggest one. To be a father is a right, but to be a dad is a privilege, a privilege in which you didn’t (and still don’t) care to have. With that being said, three years of my whole life were dedicated to you, so now I dedicate this to you.

The fact that you didn’t care to be my dad didn’t hurt my feelings, for I’ve been so used to not having you around, that I completely forgot that you even existed. But my unfazed attitude quickly changed when I got into the 7th grade. In the 7th grade, something in me shifted, and suddenly I was overcome with emotions that I didn’t even know I had. Every emotion I’ve been suppressing for the last 12 years consumed me whole before holding me captive and tormenting me until I completely broke. My 7th grade year was only the start of my depression though.

Throughout 7th grade, I had a strange urge to want you. I don’t know where the urge came from, or why the urge was so strong, but I knew that I needed you. But you didn’t care because you were thousands of miles away with your new family, and I had been completely forgotten about. In 7th grade, I  felt the most alone and lonely I ever had in my life, and no matter how many people surrounded me or how many people I talked too, I always felt that cold emptiness in my stomach because I was felt like I had no one, when really I just didn’t have the one person I wanted. I felt like the only person that could make me stop feeling so empty was you, and I wanted to talk to you, but I feared you wouldn’t respond to me. I wanted to hug you, but I feared you wouldn’t want to touch me. I wanted you to be my dad, but I feared you didn’t even want to be my father. And those fears tormented my thoughts, breaking my heart more each time I thought about it.

For the next few years, my depression escalated, almost to a point of insanity. My emotions controlled my thoughts and my actions.  I carried myself as if I was worthless, letting any and everybody disrespect and use me, and over thought every little thing, causing me to be extremely confused. I was searching for answers, trying to find out why you left me, my sister and my mom. Did we do something? Did you not love us anymore? Did you ever love us? It eventually got to a point where I blamed myself for your absence, completely ignoring the fact that maybe the reason you left was because you were selfish and didn’t care for anyone but yourself. And many nights, when everyone was asleep, I’d sit up awake in my room, laying on the floor, crying because I didn’t understand. What did I do to you that would make you punish my mom and my sister and me? I’d try to recall memories of us, trying to find the answer, but I only had two faint memories, and both were traumatic.

Once I reached the 9th grade, I had decided that you were the cause of my depression, and you leaving was not my fault. Your lack of presence made me blame myself. It made me despise myself. It made me feel like I am less than what I am, worthless. And during my 9th grade year, my first year in high school, I decided that I’d never forgive you for what you did to my sister, my mom and I. You had NO REASON, NO RIGHT, to abandon us. NOTHING you ever say or do will ever justify what you did because you were wrong, and will remain wrong for the rest of your life. Sounds harsh considering I’m your daughter, but you my father, but you're supposed to be my dad. You’re supposed to protect me, teach me, love me, but you didn’t. You chose not too. Nothing was stopping from acting like a dad, you chose not to be one to us. You didn’t care enough to be a dad.


Shortly after the 9th grade ended, I had overcome my depression. I had help from my best friend, my mom, God and most of all, myself. I learned to stop blaming myself, and to realize that you never supposed to be my dad. You were too selfish and self-absorbed to be blessed with privilege to be someone's dad. Your lack of selflessness  only allowed to be able to be my father, and even though I went through hell trying to figure out why you left, I glad you did because now that I'm older, I realize how grateful I am that you’re not in my life. So, as your former daughter, I forgive you for leaving, because you’re the one that’s going to regret leaving.






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