dad,

Sorry, you neither deserve the capital D or “Dear”; just “dad”. I am so angry today and so hurt that it’s hard to deal with it, but this seems to be the best way to communicate my feelings. You’ve been dead for over 35 years now, why/how do you continue to hurt me and embarrass me?

You weren’t even there the day I was born. You had more important things to do that day. You were 100 miles away, having an affair with some other woman, leaving my mother alone and afraid in the hospital. Then, because the hospital was overcrowded and no one knew where you were, they moved her and me out into the hallway, so that they could use her room. It hurt to learn years later that I was an unexpected pregnancy and an unwanted baby. And then you and she had the nerve to name me after you! Do you know how many years I’ve been teased and taunted about my name? Most people don’t even know what it is. And they don’t even know the history behind it. They just know I have a “funny” first name.

I so admired you when I was little, and was so proud of you. I always bragged about how you were “the best in the business”. It was only as I got older and realized what your alcohol addiction was doing to our family that you started to tarnish in my eyes. Oh, the stories I remember! Oh the shame! It was a small town, so of course everyone knew all about us. But I guess you were never that proud of me. You never attended a school play I was in, never watched me play pee wee baseball, never attended a PTA meeting, and didn’t even make it to my wedding. Were you that ashamed of me?

But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted so much for me to be “a man” that you taught me valuable life lessons, like “men don’t cry” and you’re a sissy if you wear short-sleeve shirts, or shorts. You also taught me humility. Not how to be humble; but how to be humiliated. Every little misstep, every mistake, every error had to be shared with every customer, day after day, for weeks at a time. How many times a day did I hear how stupid I was, or how silly? Thanks to you, to this day, I can’t stand to be teased about anything. My self-esteem has never recovered. 

You never spanked me: I wish you had. I would have welcomed the attention, the touch. The constant teasing was enough. You never hugged me, either. You never told me you loved me, or even complimented me for any accomplishment, large or small. Do you remember the day I came to see you at work, when I was home on leave from the Navy? You couldn’t say, “I love you” then, either. You couldn’t hug me or say how proud you were of me, but I saw tears well up in your eyes when you reached out to shake my hand as I was leaving. Maybe it was just the uniform.

You must have had a lot of “girlfriends” in your time, while you were still married to Mom, but the one I remember best (or worst), is “Roseanne”. She never even tried to hide what you were doing, and when you died, she was the first one to sign the guest book at the funeral home. Do you know I had them take white-out and blot out her name, and then I asked Uncle Jim to sign his name over hers so Mom wouldn’t see it? You know you had the smallest funeral I’ve ever attended: Mom and I, and one of your brothers. Your brother, a couple of the funeral home guys and I had to take your casket out to the car and then unload it at the gravesite.

But then today, when I thought you were done embarrassing me, finished with making me ashamed, you topped yourself. Mom had offhandedly mentioned several years ago that you had been involved in some kind of caper and had spent time in prison years ago. I didn’t want to believe it, even for you. But today, after much research, I learned from my daughter, (yes, you have a grand-daughter you never met, and a third grand-son) that yes, you were sent to the US penitentiary in Leavenworth, KS to serve a 5-year term, where you spent 3 and a half years. You shouldn’t have gotten that much time for your crime, but you had also served time in Huntsville, TX and had violated your parole from New Mexico State Prison, when you were arrested and sent to Leavenworth, so you were considered a habitual offender. Really dad?! Are there any more secrets you’re hiding? Are you about done with me now? I really don’t think I can take much more.

Woody, age 65