Growing up with you as a dad was one of the most extraordinary experiences that a child could have. But once you grow up, you realize that your parents shelter you from the truth and
toxicity hidden behind closed doors. Little bits and pieces have fit my perspective as I’ve grown older. The late nights of you returning home drunk, the random slashes in her tires, the broken windows. The random scars on her face, while I was begging my mother for you to stay, not acknowledging the fear in her face. There is much more that I could say. Just a year ago, I learned that we moved away from Delaware when I was nine because they said that was the safest thing for my mom to get away from you. We left with no trace and no goodbyes. I was a little girl who knew she could no longer see her father.

Nine years later, I’m 19 and live in DC, ecstatic to know that I’ll finally get my father back, but not anticipating the awkwardness that would be left between us. When I first saw you, our
conversations were short and hesitant. You went from my best friend to someone I barely recognized, and you still haven’t fixed it. Why am I here if you can’t set what you made broken? I
moved from California to DC for college because I wanted my dad back. I’ve always liked him before. My mission was to make these four years our time to learn from each other.

Once I came back, I realized my aunt and my uncle are more comfortable talking to me than you are, along with the fact that they had been trying to see me the whole nine years I was gone, while I got radio silence from you. I don’t expect us to start where we left off, but I want to see effort. Acknowledgment. You came and helped me move into my dorm with words barely exchanged. I know I’m related to you because I see your face every time I look in the mirror, but when we are together, I can’t recognize you, not even because of the past, but because it seems there’s no hope in the future.

I’ve used my cousin as a barrier because she knows you better, but then you left us in that hotel room for hours without car keys or food. We were sitting ducks waiting for your arrival. You
made me 2 hours late for my midterm, and I begged you to be on time, too. I had to stop myself from crying out my anger. Most recently, you moved me into my dorm for the new school year, but you broke my TV. Instead of being a father and paying for a new one, you said it was my fault because I held it for 3 minutes. My grandmother replaced it, and you got off scot-free.

As I write this now, I get an ache in my eye, reliving my annoyance—the discardment. I’ve had to put up with a fake father since 2009 because you couldn’t get yourself together. Being a father and a man shouldn’t be a task for you. It should be a blessing. You have children, and many families can’t. You are alive and healthy and have a child who wants to connect with you. It shouldn’t be hard for you to get into the program.

Talking to my cousin, I’ve recently realized I was too quick to assume how you took it when we didn’t have contact. She said you spent hours crying for me. It saddens the situation but makes
me feel better that I wasn’t the only one crying over the relationship that could have been. I’ve been mad at you for not being able to express your feelings to me adequately, but I’ve been told a million times over that I do the same. From my face to my heart to my emotions and actions, they all come
from you, yet I couldn’t figure out the situation myself. Now, when it comes to breaking my TV after I got it, you then decided you wanted to pay for it. I had to realize you needed to budget it out.

I was upset with you, but now I conclude that my anger and frustration with you came from not having you in my life. I’ve grown up imagining what things would be like if anything were different, and I still do, but now it’s my turn to try to form this bond. We are just two awkward sacks waiting for it to create itself when, in all honesty, I could have been trying more. I don’t resent you for being the way you are because you made me that way, too. I just had to realize I was scared
to make you uncomfortable, so I bottled up all my feelings.

Anger can be projected in so many ways. I don’t realize I’m upset for a long time and won’t acknowledge that anger until it builds up and randomly releases. That’s not the best way to control
your feelings, although growing up, sharing and expressing emotion wasn’t normalized. Anger can’t be explained; it is your morals and your patience. My anger comes from disappointment and the feeling of vulnerability. Everyone experiences it differently or just bottles it up completely.