A Letter To My Enstranged Father

Dear Dad,

I often wonder if you ever think of me. But then I stop myself when that little voice inside my head reminds me of your absence in my life.

I used to see you around, but I was too young to understand what your presence meant to me back then.

I remember a coward that ran out when things got too hard and too complicated.

I remember a weakling of a man whose face I can now barely recall.

I remember, in kindergarten, being asked to write down the names of my parents and I swear with the innocence of a child, that I could not find it in me to write down your name.

I remember the pity in my kindergarten's teacher's eyes.

I remember her looking into my own confused ones and being unable to read what was inside of me.

I remember the hate I felt every time I saw your face because you represented misery and bondage.

I can't remember the last time I saw you or the last time I thought of you before today.

But I would like for you to know something.

I did have a father, and it wasn't you. I never missed out on anything, or at least I don't think I did, because my mother perfectly played both roles of mum and dad to me.

I would like you to know that I am happy and I am living the life you never would have been able to offer me.

I admit that I was scarred . . . but I forgave you for not having been the man I used to wish you could have been.

And I have to tell you that its because of my mother's strength, hard work, perseverance and loving nature, that I am this person I have become.

Right now, I am as much of a stranger to you as you are to me, but I pray that you are happy. I pray that you found peace. And I pray that you found love.

With that said, I release a part of me that I have never shared with anyone and hope that the hole left behind will be filled with the great things that life has to offer.

Yours faithfully,
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