An open letter to my father

Dad,

I�d like you to take the time to find a peaceful place before you read this. If you�re feeling depressed or crabby or uncomfortable, don�t read it yet. Wait until you�re at peace, please.

God tells us that we don�t have the things we want because we haven�t asked for them. Making the assumption that He might know more than I do, I figure it�s about time I ask for what I want.

I want you to be my Dad. I�m not talking about being the authority figure or the provider or defender or anything like that. I want you to be my Dad. I want you to love me the way you love Bing; the way you love Michael; the way you love Sherrie.

I understand that it�s entirely possible you do and I just don�t see it, but I�d really like to see it.

In all my life with you I have never heard you say a bad thing about Sherrie, Michael or Bing. In all my life with you I�ve never heard you insult them, slander them, say mean things about them or be snide about them. In fact, I�ve seen you immediately jump to their defense when someone else does say something negative.

I suppose it�s possible that you do the same thing in regard to me when I�m not around. But I�d really like to see some of that.

I would like you to hug me more. I remember sitting with you on the couch when I was a very little girl. I remember just sitting there, not talking, just leaning against you with your arm around me. That always made me feel so loved, so warm, so safe. I miss that.

Many negative things have happened between us throughout the past thirty years. We each have our own viewpoints on those things and I don�t think either viewpoint is right or wrong� it�s just a viewpoint. I would like to tell you that I�m sorry for causing you pain, irritation or difficulty throughout the time I�ve lived with you.

There may be grievances you have against me which I�ve long forgotten. If that is so, please, accept my apology. I never meant to cause you distress. I never meant to make your life more difficult and I never meant to truly disrespect you. I�m sorry for any harm I may have caused you whether I remember the slight or not.

I ask you to accept my forgiveness for any harm or slight I may feel you�ve dealt me over these thirty years. Again, I may not remember things the same way you do, but I sincerely forgive all harms, slights, dings and bruises-of-ego which I may have attributed to you over the years. Here and now, with God�s help, I put all negative feelings in regard to you away. I cast them away from me and I banish the negative.

I love you. I really do. And I want to be loved by you.

Like Mom was saying earlier this evening in regard to a difference of viewpoint, it�s entirely possible that you do love me. But I don�t recognize that.

I have long felt that I am simply a liability to you, that I am a burden and a reminder that you didn�t get to raise your own children. In the past I have attributed that feeling to you; that you said or did something which prompted that feeling in me. Now, however, I�m questioning my own understanding.

Do you love me? Do you love me because of who I am? I sometimes think that you love me only because you�re married to my mother and that that requires you to love me. I sometimes think that there might be something I could do to make you love me.

But then, I think that maybe I just don�t recognize the way you show love. And maybe you don�t show love the way I understand it. I�m thinking that it�s possible that we just don�t speak the same �love language�.

I know that with Mom, to show her I love her, I need to touch her. The foot rubbing thing just fills up her �love bucket� the fastest. It�s the way I can show her love.

I know that with Yvonne, the way to show her love is to listen to her. When I just call and let her talk for an hour, that makes her feel loved.

I�m a lot like mom, and the things that really show me love are hugs and holds. Just sitting next to her with that physical contact lets me know I�m loved. I also do well with words or letters. I know I�m loved when someone shows me attention, when they talk to me with eye contact or when they leave me little notes or send cards or something like that.

But I don�t know how to show you I love you. I�ve tried holding/touching which I understand. But that doesn�t seem to do it. I�ve tried doing things for you and that seems to have some impact, but it leaves me feeling like I�m being a servant, not a daughter.

I know that when I tried the Ebay thing and you made money, I know that you were pleased and proud of me. I know that in the past, when I�ve done things which earned you money, then I had your respect. But that leaves me feeling like I have to buy your affection/attention. I don�t like the long-term effect of that.

So, I want to know how to show you I love you. And, I want to know how you show love. I�m feeling really un-loved here lately. And I�m not sure how to fix that.

I want to love you. I really, really want to love you. But I don�t know how.

I remember when we made the rooster together. I KNEW I was loved by you when we did that. I look at that often and I think of how wonderful it felt to know that you were proud of me� to know that you spent your time to help me have the best science project that damned school had ever seen. I brag about that rooster� that project, to many people.

Mom says you�re a pussy cat on the inside. Mom has often told me that you�re really a very gentle man. But all I see is this big, scary, dangerous and angry man. I sometimes wonder if you think that fear is equal to respect.

I have been afraid of you for a very long time. And I have been so very afraid to trust you. You may well have taught me to hang by my knees, and I may well have liked it, but all I remember from that experience is the split second of fear.

I don�t want to remember fear anymore. I don�t want to look at you and be afraid. I want to look at you and remember the rooster. I want to look at you and remember all the times I got to go to work with Dad. I want to look at you and remember how very proud I was to have YOU as my Dad.

Damn it, I really, really miss you. I miss the Dad I used to have. I miss the man who would hold me and love me and hug me. I miss the man who would let me sit next to him and lean against him while he sat on the couch. I miss the man who wanted, with all his heart, to make his new marriage and family work.

I miss the man who surprised me with a Big Wheel.

I miss the man who spent all night and finally had to call a friend in order to give me a bright, pink bike with a wonderful, squishy pink seat. I miss the man who gave me a present without telling me how much it cost. I miss the man who stood up for me, defended me, called the police when Clancy stole my bike, and then went to her house. I miss the man who defended me against Wesley Cox when that foolish little boy said such strange and hurtful words.

I miss the man you were before money became more important than anything else. I miss my Dad.

I want to go out on a kill with you. I miss the man who taught me about field-dressing a deer and let me help him, even though I was more of a nuisance than a help. I miss the man who danced with me at my wedding. I miss the man who stood so straight and tall and proud in that tuxedo. I miss the man who was strong and loving and wanted the best for me.

I miss the man who forced Jonny to walk the five acres in Graham� I miss the man who terrified the boy who hurt me. I miss the man who took that survival course with me in Snohomish. And I miss the man who scared the entire YOU group with the fish mask.

You are a GOOD father. You really are. You have done so many wonderful, fantastic things. I miss the man who taught me how to drive a stick shift. I miss the man who surprised me with the pinto. I miss the man who taught me about guns and hunting and how to respect the power of a firearm.

But what�s more� even though I miss that man, that man lives right upstairs. And I miss the ability to just sit next to you. I miss having the chance to just� to just be your kid.

When you said I wasn�t your child, that hurt so very, very badly. I�ve been hurt and angry about it ever since. The adult part of me knows that what you meant was that I wasn�t a child � that I wasn�t some little kid. But there�s a part of me that really, really enjoyed being YOUR little kid� being your daughter. And that part of me wants, so very desperately, to get that back. I want to be YOUR child. I want you to love me like you used to, before I grew up, before we grew apart, before I got too big to hold.

I want to love you. I want to love you so much it hurts inside. But more than that, I want you to love me. I want you to think of me as YOUR child.

Dad, what I said at that Spokesman�s Club banquet in Marysville so long ago is exactly the way I feel right now. If there were one thing I could change about my life� about the way I�ve lived it and the way things have happened� even after another 15 years, the only thing I would change is to make you my biological father.

You have a son who really needs your strength. He needs you to love him now. He is in so much pain inside that he can�t handle it. He needs you to love him. And, you have a daughter who is facing some pretty intense medical stuff. She needs your support. She needs you to love her. And, if you don�t have time to love another person, especially someone who doesn�t carry your blood, that�s okay. I can wait.

But please, when you have the time, tell me how to love you and tell me how you show love. I�m just not seeing it and I want to. I really want to.

I love you so much. I want you to be happy and feel fulfilled. I want you to have a brand new truck and I want it to make your heart sing. I want you to know what it�s like to have something brand new, that no one else has ever owned. I want you to know how wonderful it is to sit inside your very own, brand-spankin new truck. I want you to know how it feels to drive that new truck and know that with every single mile you put on it, it�s all yours and YOU got it brand new! I want you to feel that way because that�s the way I feel about my computer. Every time I turn it on I feel good� It�s exactly what I wanted and it came in the cow boxes and it�s just wonderful.

You deserve to feel that way, Dad. You really do.

I want to see you do the museum thing because I know you would be really good at it. I think that you would really enjoy it and that you would teach and inform a lot of kids who don�t know anything. I remember how it felt to listen as you told me about the various parts of an animal and why you skinned it a specific way and how to hold the knife. I remember how wonderful that felt, to be next to you, learning from you, loving you and loving the situation. I think you can teach a lot of kids. And, I think you would do a really, really good job. I think it�s your natural talent and I think that if you actually did it, you would never have to �work� another day in your life.

I think you would find joy again. And you so need to find joy. You need happiness and peace and joy in your life. You don�t get enough of those things. And I want you to be happy. I want you to be so happy that you can�t stop smiling.

I want you to enjoy your son and I want you to enjoy your daughter and I want you to enjoy your grandchildren. And I want to be your daughter.

I want to know how to love you. I want to know how you show love.

I love you, Dad. I really, really do. We need to go to Costco and have Costco dogs and mocha slushies. We need to go hunting. We need to skin an animal. We need to go to work together. I want to be your kid. I want to be your child. Please, tell me I�m your child.

You�re my Dad. You always have been and you always will be. You�re MY Dad. No one else will ever, ever take your place. No one else will ever be the one to protect me, defend me, love me and guide me through those times in my life when I needed a father so desperately.

I still need you. I still love you. I may be 33, tall, big and a little scary in my own right, but I�m still your little girl. I can still eat three or four Burger King hamburgers when Mom�s not looking. I can still use your help in skinning out a rooster. I still need you to hold me once in a while.

I love you. You will always be my father. I will always be your daughter. God put us together. Whether you know it or not� whether you believe it or not� I have always felt that you and Mom got married because God knew I needed YOU as my father. I still feel that way. I still believe that you two got together so I could have you.

I want you. I need you. I love you. You�re my Dad. I want to be your kid.

Anything else I would write would simply repeat what I�ve stated so many times in this letter. Therefore, I�m closing this now. Just know� You�re my father.

Your kid, Jennifer.