A Letter To My Dad

Tonight I went with a few people to see the movie Courageous. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Also, take lots of tissues. Courageous is about a few fathers who decide "good enough" isn't enough. They sign a covenant between them, God and their families to go that extra mile. Even though I am not a father, this movie hit home really hard. At one point in the movie, the Sheriff reads some statistics to the men about those who grow up without their fathers are several times more likely to commit suicide, or even more so to turn to a life of crime. Even though I knew my father and had a step-dad in the home, I still felt fatherless. I have held much resentment for my birth father for many years. After seeing this movie, I feel I need to write my father a letter and express to him how I feel. These are some things I have held on to for years and it is time I relieve myself of it. I pray that everyone gets to grow up with a father they know loves them. If you are not so lucky, I pray that you are blessed as I am to realize that no matter your relationship your earthly father, you have a father in Heaven that absolutely adores you and laid down his own life so that you may live. I wouldn't normally post something so personal on a blog, but my hope is that this will give you the courage to repair any broken relationship you may have with your parents or children. Feel free to read the letter I am writing to my father.

Dear dad,

  I just finished watching the movie "Courageous" and felt a need to share with you some things I have been carrying for a long time.

As you may know, I just had my 22nd birthday. After 22 years, I don't really know you. Sure, you have been around and you didn't completely abandon me, but you also weren't there when I needed you. I have so few memories with you growing up. What I remember most is any time I was at grandma's I wished that you would show up. When I would hear you were going to come over I would sleep on the front porch because I knew it would make the time between then and when you showed up feel significantly less. Any moment I got to spend with you was something I treasured dearly.

As I grew older I had less of an expectation to see you. As that expectation grew more and more shallow, the need grew deeper. I needed a dad in my life and couldn't look at you as mine. I prayed that you would call and want to see me. I rarely received such call. I started to realize that you had a family that needed you and you had to be there for them. But even though I realized that and lived with my mom and step-dad, I remained broken and alone. I fell deep into depression, not because of you, but you weren't there.

You would sometimes tell me to call if I wanted to spend time with you. I never did. Why? I didn't call because I didn't want to be needy and pull you away from your real family to spend time with your bastard child. I still had a need, however, to want to be wanted by my dad. I wanted a dad that loved me out of choice, not out of necessity.

I have held on to resentment of you for the last few years. I trained myself to not think of you as my father, but as an uncle. I know you are my father, but the connection between a dad and his child was never there. But it is okay. I am writing this letter to you not to make you feel guilty, but to tell you I forgive you. Also, you have three children living with you of whom it is not too late to be a dad to. Don't let work and stress overtake your life and steal away your time to be a dad. Be there for them. Not out of obligation, but out of love. I pray that you choose to be not just their father, but even more so, be their daddy. Be the one they can look to for sound advice, be the one they can learn from, be the one they can lean on when their heart is broken. Don't let them go away feeling resentment.

As I mentioned earlier, my 22nd birthday just passed. This was a day of deep depression for me. It reminded me that the one person I looked up to and actually felt loved by was no longer with us. Usually this is a day of celebration for being alive another year. But instead, for me, it was a day of mourning for the loss of grandma. Even though I had slept most the day away, I was happy when the doorbell rang and Karen woke me up saying you were there. Turns out, it was the pastor and his wife from a church she attended and they drove a car similar to yours.

There is so much I wanted to say in this letter but I just can't think clearly right now. I pray that I will soon have the courage to talk about this with you face to face and that you will be willing to listen. I love you.

Your son,
Greg