Letter From My Father

My dad was (let’s just say) complex. That’s where I’ll leave it. But I will also say he was not one to express his emotions. Let me rephrase that, he was not one to express his positive emotions.

I never heard him say he was proud of me. He rarely and sparingly told or showed me he loved me. And he never said he was sorry. Ever.

I have carried around the burden of having the dad I had and not the one I needed most of my life, like empty, useless, soiled baggage I couldn’t put down. Or could put down but picked up again for whatever reason. Probably because of habit. Maybe because that’s all I thought I deserved for so very many years.

With God’s help, I have precariously and painstakingly picked my way through the emotional and physical landmines of an abusive childhood, finally arriving at the place I am now — giving myself or allowing God to give me what I needed from my dad but never got.

Writing this brief letter “from him” to me has helped me sort through the remaining rubbish strewn journey of my life. And I am surprised at the emotional impact it’s had — both good and bad.

Though my father was not the one I needed, he was the one I had. And I can now finally live with that.

Jackie Deems copyright 2021