The Things You Would Have Said

Dear Dad,

You always encouraged me to tell you whenever I got overwhelmed over something. But I rarely did. Just by bottling all my emotions inside, good or bad, my behavior started to change and you all noticed. I did little talking, and isolated myself from you and everybody else. Sitting in the corner of the living room writing in my journal, while you guys were watching movies.  I felt weird in my own home. I felt like a screw up, never doing or saying anything right. And I never thought otherwise. 

Then I started to act different at school. Not by much, though, still the same 13 year old girl. But I stopped asking questions, I slacked off, and I somewhat changed people’s opinions on me. I never wanted to be judged by people I barely knew, but that’s what was happening. I regret not telling you how I was feeling in the first place. At school I felt like the nerdy perfectionist and at home I felt like the big sister who couldn’t do anything right. It was all enough to make me cry in my room with the door locked.

But of course you never knew because I kept it to myself. I felt worthless and I didn’t want to be in this world anymore. I pushed myself more and more not allowing myself to breathe. I wanted to be the perfect daughter that you would ALWAYS be proud of. But that wasn’t happening. But here I am, trying as hard as I can. And I am still trying to be an awesome role model to my little sister. So don’t worry. This year is going to be a fresh start. I will be an eighth grader and I will make you proud.

Love,
Your Daughter, age 13

Dear D,

It is almost two years since we met each other. I’ll always remember the first moment we locked eyes, the passion that was hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans that flourished into the best relationship and the best two years of my life. I wanted to give the world to you and expected so little in return. I just wanted someone to listen to me, a guy to let me know that the world wasn’t such a bad place as long as I was with you. The day I was going to ask you to marry me, ring in hand, I knew something was wrong, so I held back. Then you broke up with me. Through a Facebook message. With a cop-out reason.

How dare you? I gave you everything I had, with the most sincere dedication, to not even hear (what I can only imagine) the tremble in your voice so I knew that you actually cared about me. Looking back now, you never cared about me. You only tried to mimic me in the things I did for you. I don’t know why you wanted to date me, but it clearly wasn’t for the commitment you told me about in the beginning. The two years you were with me were the biggest lie you ever told yourself. At least I can say that that I was truthful with my feelings.

I am so unabashedly disappointed in you. You put yourself on such a high pedestal that there can be no return from this fall from grace. The friendship that you wanted after we broke up will never happen. Find some other guy to trick.

Not-so-sincerely,
C, age 24

Father,

I remember fights in the house for as long as I can remember. I remember cowering in fear in my room, plagued with nightmares. I always got these terrifying dreams of dinosaurs and giants whenever you and mother would start fighting while I was sleeping. These nightmares, whenever I got them, taught me how to be strong. I remember running though the forests I created, the houses and cities, lavish and huge, to escape the monsters that represented you. I never could, and I would always wake whenever the T-rex got me. Whenever I felt myself being consumed by the jaws and snapping, gnashing teeth of this violent prehistoric creature.

In a way, I thank you. You taught me to be strong. I also found myself standing in front of you, in front of you and mother, screaming at you to stop. To stop because your baby girl was scared. Because I hated the fighting. I knew at a very young age fights like the ones you and mother had weren’t normal. They happened to often and you left too frequently.

Sister moved out, and left me to fend for myself at a young age. Much to young for a girl like me. Part of me loathes her for it-you forced her to leave. She wanted out of that house as much as I wanted out of life. Your baby girl, at 11 years old, inflicting self harm and wanting to die every time a fight erupted, every time she didn’t do well enough that she knew her precious Daddy would get mad at her for.

Despite what you put me through, I think your breaking moment was when I informed you about my tendencies that lead your baby girl to hurt herself. I was 13, standing in front of you showing you the scars on her wrists and what do you do? You scream at me. You scream at me while I’m standing there at my weakest point, your telling me I had no right. After that, everything started getting better. You and mother started fighting less, you left less often if at all, and the nightmares started going away. 

In a way, I hate you. I hate what you’ve put your family through, what you’ve done to me. I have trouble trusting men now, thinking they’ll be like you, bound to hurt me. I have a hard time opening up to people because of you telling me I had no right to react the way I did. 

But all in all, I love you. You’re my father and I need you. You’re my daddy, and you kept me safe and continue to look out for me, your baby girl. I remember when the house burnt down and I saw you cry for the first time. How you held me close and told me “It’ll be alright, baby girl. Everything will be okay” and how I trusted you so blindly because I didn’t know what else to do. I trusted you because I knew that you didn’t know what else to do either. You taught me to be strong and to believe in myself. And whenever sister would lash out at me-in words or violence-you would reprimand her. You are law in the house, and you would protect me from her. Mother never could do that. But you would stand up and tell her to shut her mouth or leave.

And despite my hard time opening up to people, I dare myself to because I need to have blind, relentless faith in someone, sometimes. I’ve found someone that adores me right now, and I adore him. I’m starting to rely on him more and more. And you should be happy to know he’s nothing like you, Daddy. He would never hit me, and he doesn’t do drugs like you once did. He holds me close-like you did the day of the fire. He’s seeing me through to what I want to do, just like you.

You’ve lead me through elementary, high school and now to college. You’re seeing through to make sure that I do what I want. Despite everything you’ve put me through, you’re being a Dad.

I could never tell you any of this because we aren’t close. But I know we are more alike than anything else. You’ve taken care of me for 17 years, and despite how scared of you I was when I was younger and what you’ve done to me mentally, I love you. 

From,
Your Baby Girl, age 17

To you, 

I’m afraid to tell you that I’m still hurt. And I’m afraid to tell you that I’m still angry, that you broke my trust, and that you’ve been so unkind and much too hard on me. Instead, I’m pretending - like you - that I never told you I loved you, because I’m also afraid to tell you that I still do.

Love should be told with love, and without shame, or regret, or bitterness. Love would be a story that grows in the telling. It doesn’t always work out that way, though, and it didn’t. From me to you, I’m not sure now that it ever could, not after everything that’s been told in between. These chapters are ragged and torn, their fragile words censored by a reckless and inelegant hand, and this ending is a sad one.

You’ve left me ruined and scarred, my tenderest disclosure paid in welts that tell now only of longing and its submission, while you talk of love as though it were something you know, and not a woman, weeping and unheard and afraid in front of you.

From me, age 31

Dear S,

I sat and stared at you and wondered why; we’d made love so many times before. I just shrugged it off. What I meant to say was that I was taking a picture of you to keep forever. What I didn’t tell you was that was the last time. You have been my world, love and heart for more than 6 years, but it’s time to move on. What I always wanted to say was that I would have moved heaven and earth for you. With all my heart, I’ll always love you. 

Love always and forever,Me, age 39

Dear the adopted,

It is hard knowing that you were adopted. Trust me, I know what it feels like. It is hard to know that someone gave you up. I was adopted at three months old. The people who adopted me are my great aunt and uncle. During my childhood, I did not know. I found out when I was five. I was at my uncle Wilber’s funeral and I met one of my younger sisters. That’s when I got told that I was adopted.

I often wonder what my life would have been like if I stayed with biological mother. I am the oldest of five girls, one of which stayed with my birth mother. I recently met Lala and the woman that gave birth to me. After that meet, I decided that I like the way my life is. I am telling you this because I want to help. Even though I’m not an adult, I remember the feelings of pain and want. You are lucky that you have a family that cares, even though they are not you’re real parents.

You’re friend,
Victoria, age 13

Dear Mom,

I never fully appreciated you when you were alive. I was too busy being a smart-mouth-know-it-all-sassy-pants. I wish I would’ve learned earlier in life how special you really were. It wasn’t until I was about 40 yrs old that I started to look at you as a person with feelings, too. I remember the time I came home as a surprise to visit, you hugged me so tight for a long time and just sobbed. Now having a “Gypsy daughter” of my own to be concerned about, I understand you now more than ever. I wasn’t done having fun with you and laughing so hard until one of us peed our pants (not on purpose). I don’t regret for one moment that I came home to live for six months before you left this earth.

It wasn’t fun to be on the phone with Dad when you finally took your last breath. Listening to Debbie in the background making it all about her as usual (nothing has changed). I’m still glad you didn’t suffer and have to endure a nursing home. I’ve worked in those places; even the nicest of them, there is never enough kind help.

I know I didn’t say this enough when you were alive…but I love you, Momma! Not a day goes by where you don’t cross my mind several times a day. A picture of you in your kitchen is in my kitchen. You made the best fried chicken and you were right: all that spaghetti has caught up with me. What I wouldn’t give to have one more day with you but that wouldn’t be enough. I could write for days how my heart aches for you. It hurts Dad and my brothers to look at me sometimes because I look like you so much (an honor). I love you and miss you everyday of my life! 

All my Love,
Lee Anne (Queenie), age 56

Dear Pepaw,

Since I can’t say all of this to you face-to-face, this is my last resort.

I’ve always wanted to know what I did wrong to make you not want to call me. Mom and Dad always told me that you had our number. The years after you shoved us out of your life, it never changed. They knew they couldn’t turn off a girl’s love for her grandmother, and that they had no right to tell me to hate you. But even as the years went by and you never picked up the phone, I still chose to have hope in you, and give you the benefit of the doubt. Now here I sit, an almost sixteen year old. My birthday isn’t even on the horizon yet, but it’s staring me in the face anyway, and I can’t help but wonder, “Will this be the year?”, even as I remind myself our phone number has finally been changed.

Since I’m so close to becoming an adult, I’ve been trying to move on and grow up a little. But it’s hard when you don’t have anyone to confide in, and when you want something so much. Mom is too self-absorbed, and Dad acts like it never happened, and none of you exist. It’s his way of coping. But I remember, and I’m here too. I hurt, too. 

However, I’m not going to let you ruin what is rightfully mine. I may be depressed, and probably always will be, but I stand tall anyway. And It’s time to straighten up and say goodbye, once and for all. I still love every single one of you; you, and all of those cousins and relatives around you, were some of my most prized relationships. I grew up with you all on the same street as me, and that’s not the kind of love that just goes away, even if you did hurt me and my parents so much. They may not have the courage to be honest with themselves, but I do, and if I could I’d visit you and try and be your granddaughter, even if you don’t want me to. Nothing has changed except time and distance. 

Love,
Haley, 15

Dear Melissa,

I am so sorry that I hurt you and made you cry when I called you ugly in 5th grade. You had done absolutely nothing to me, yet I joined the crowd with the unnecessary torment. Your tears still stain my memory to this day. You were kind to me and others despite the insults. We had no right to do that to you just because you were beautifully different than us. 

Sincerely,
Darlene, age 19

Pa,

I know that you are always there for me.
I know that you may not be at home because you have to go make money.
I may only see you on weekends but you have never let me down.
The love I have for you is the same as you have for me. Unconditional.

Me, age 16