He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3

Okay, daddy. Since we never went on a coffee date before or even shared an intimate moment anywhere together for that matter, I’m taking you out. Just in my mind of course; you’d never come any other way.

So where’s it going to be, Starbuck’s? I forgot. Instant Nescafe’. Hot water straight from the spigot with creamer and sugar in that coffee-stained cup you yelled at me for washing one day. Okay then, let’s just have coffee in the kitchen in the old house where we used to live a long time ago. Doesn’t matter to me, I just want to talk to you.

I’m sorry for rebelling against you in those troublesome, adolescent years. I was just a kid and didn’t understand your cryptic silence. And on those rare occasions when you arose from the tomb, I didn’t understand your dry wit. I thought you were laughing at me because I was stupid or because you didn’t love me.

That hurt me.

A lot.

And I wanted to hurt you back.

I just wish that one time you had held me in your arms and said you were sorry for making me cry; that you had poked your head into my shattered world and seen how much I needed your love and protection. Instead, you crawled into a tomb of apathy; dead to my fears and tender emotions.

There’s so many things you didn’t know about me, daddy. Like how I wanted to be your daddy’s girl; for you to hold me on your lap and tell me that I was beautiful and smart and funny; for you to meet my first date at the front door with a Smith and Wesson, and took a ball bat to my X-husband the first time he hit me. When my tiny baby was born too early and I thought he would die, I wanted you to hold me and tell me everything would be okay.

But, you never did.

But, that’s okay daddy, I didn’t invite you here to condemn you; I’ve done enough of that throughout my life. I just want you to know that in spite of your lack of concern, I learned to stand on my own two feet. I faced the demons of anger and rage. I’ve survived the tormenting feelings of rejection and worthlessness; the stabbing pain of loneliness and grief.

So thank you for meeting with me today and allowing me one fragmented moment of the rest of your time in eternity. And before you fade into the shadows of my mind, I want you to know that I’m glad you were my dad. Without realizing it you taught me to be a mother and to love my son the way I wanted you to love me. Now, I am reaping a bountiful harvest of love and joy and happiness through him and his growing, loving family.

So thanks, daddy,

Happy Father’s Day

Comments on: "Happy Father’s Day, Daddy" (5)

  1. Nice. Merciful.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow, this is very powerful, Sandi. Letter writing to our missing loved ones can be cathartic and healing. My Father’s Day post is devoted to those who no longer have their Dads, those who lost them at a young age, and those who are estranged.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. hawk2017 said:

    I understand.

    Liked by 1 person

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