Year 4 (a letter to Dad)

Dear Dad,

4 years since you left. And this year, I am going to… well, rather, I NEED to be… completely honest and real. Not that I haven’t been in the past, but that fact that you died doesn’t diminish the reality that was our relationship and the road I’ve walked down to get here today. I want to be open and exposed because I greatly believe that is where we obtain the most growth and ultimate healing.

As strange as it sounds, I feel as though I understand you more than I ever did. And I understand more about myself in that time than I ever believed I could…

I didn’t think I’d ever truly forgive you. I didn’t think I’d ever stop being angry. I had no clue what the hell to do. The moment I got that phone-call, I remember thinking: “keep pushing through this, use this — just keep going” and physically gritting my teeth and balling my fists and pushing myself to keep “living”… whatever that meant at the time.

And I’ll be brutally honest: my goal was to be nothing like you. My goal was to try to combat who I thought you were — the negative aspects of myself that I attributed to you and the fact that I was your daughter. I was angry, with good reason. Your illness and bad habits and a culmination of all the pain you experienced in your life morphed you into this unrecognizable person to me. The man I was so angry at — so resentful of — he wasn’t the same guy that taught me to ride a bike. He wasn’t the same guy who started my love for classic rock and took me to my first concert. The same guy who helped me learn how to walk… Point being — who you were is not a reflection of the darkness that took over your mind and made you feel like anything less than a capable, hilarious, talented, loving human being. Because you were all of those things and more. Depression is a real b**ch that way…

I was faced with a lot when you left, Dad – the biggest piece arguably being… having to forgive someone who is no longer around. From an outsider’s perspective, you’d almost think that to be impossible. But this year, that’s what I want to share with you – and with everyone who cares to hear it… IT IS POSSIBLE.

The trick? Search within. That was the answer before you died, but in the twisted “catch 22” of life, it took losing you for me to really see that. I’m not happy about that part… what you did guts me just as it did the day I got the call. But this is my reality, and I fully embrace my present and the fact that your story and mine are intertwined.

You’re a part of me forever and beyond… and not the dark part of me. You’re the best part of me. I love you. I love you with everything that I’ve got. And my heart aches for your loss just as much as it does for the pain that crippled you. I know that you never meant to hurt me. I know that you loved me as much as I love you. I know that your mind was clouded beyond your control. I get it now. And I’m doing the best thing I know to do in order to honor who you were and your memory. I’m LIVING my lessons daily, and I’m sharing them with anyone who cares to listen.

I’m not condoning what you did or justifying any of those actions. But I have something that you no longer have… I have a present moment to make it right and to live my life striving to be the best person I can be. I needed to find a way to be at peace with this and understand what it means for my life. And I know this will be an ongoing part of my story. I welcome that, as much as I welcome any lessons that come my way.

I will never stop searching for the answers within or fighting in this life, Dad. This is all going to mean something more… IT HAS TO!

I love you, and damn it, I miss you. But I forgive you. And I fight for you as much as I fight for me. Always.

Love,

Jess

*To my family or friends of my dad… I hope this was understood with the intent behind it. I realize this post was a bit “raw” in nature… but my goal was not to memorialize dad and paint him up on a pedestal because he’s gone. We all know that life is not always sunshine and rainbows. It’s also dark as hell — my father’s journey is nothing short of an example of a harsh dose of reality – it surely was for me. I love my father. I’ve never stopped. But I represent him in all of his shades And I want the confidence to be honest and open and encourage others to do the same. Dad wouldn’t want me to do anything less.