Dear Dad – A letter that is too late
Those who have followed my blog for a while will probably have read previous posts I have written about my Dad. If you haven’t and wish to before reading this feel free they are here:
Why Father’s Day is not for me and my Dad and DNA isn’t all that – my latest discovery.
My Dad passed away yesterday. I often find it rather therapeutic to write down my feelings so I am doing it here. Maybe if anyone else has had similar experiences it will bring them some comfort to feel less alone too. I am lucky that my stepdad is amazing and a great father figure to me though of course, it is never the same.
Dear Dad,
I know that once you loved me, the photos show that. When I was young I know you carried me on your shoulders and you fell asleep with me in your arms. I have photos of you smiling with me and genuinely looking happy.
Things changed between you and my mum I know that and we didn’t see each other again until I was an adult. I tried to be your little girl still. I tried to be everything you would want and for you to love me.
For whatever reason, I will never know you couldn’t do that. Maybe in your own way, you did love me I don’t know.
I want you to know that despite the fact I respected your wishes and didn’t keep trying to make contact when you made it clear you didn’t want it, I always loved you.
You are my Dad and half of my DNA comes from you. I don’t know what I got from you because I never knew you well enough to know much about your personality. I don’t know if there is anything about Ben that has come from you, I hope so.
I knew you were ill and secretly hoped that you would suddenly call me out of the blue or make some kind of contact because you wouldn’t want to leave things like this.
That wasn’t to be the case though. I think you must have known you didn’t have long left despite only being 64 and still chose to keep your distance from me.
Part of me wants to come and see you and hold you tight and have a father-daughter hug I never really had since I was little. Part of me wants to come and see you because I know now you can’t push me away.
Then another part of me wants to yell at you and tell you how much you have hurt me. You really hurt me, Dad, you pushed me away right until the end. As a parent myself I really can not understand that and you are the only person who really knows why. You will never be able to tell me and I will never know.
I loved you Dad, even if you didn’t love me, I always loved you and wanted to be part of your life but now it is over and I have to accept that. Thank you for the cuddles when I was little and I hope you in some way were proud of the woman I grew up to be.
Love always
Jenny
(he always knew me as Jenny, not Jen!)
