Dear ‘dad’

You don’t deserve my forgiveness.

You never have, and you never will. It doesn’t matter that you’re in jail now. Frankly, you deserve worse.

You were a monster!

You never loved me. I saw the way my friends idolised their dads; I saw how dads picked up their little girls, and twirled them about. I saw the way fathers got happy because their daughters had good grades.  I’ve never had a father. For no father makes a child, with the sole intention of breaking her. You were never a father. 

Remember my first day of grade school? I was just six.  But I remember – clearly! You walked me close to the gate, yelled at me to get in, and walked away, without looking back. If I didn’t have a six year olds brain at the time, I would have known then, that I didn’t have a father. I never would. But that’s not what made you the monster.

The year I turned eight, the real deal started. The dark shadows, the muffled tears. The stern threats, the agonizing pain. It was a fast ordeal, but it never left my mind. It was a nightmare. A prolonged ghoulish incubus!  I yelled, and I kicked. I begged and I cried. I did all I could do. Yet, you never stopped.

You were never drunk. So what was your motivation? You were never on any drugs, or were you? What did I do, to deserve all of that? What did my mother (whoever she may be) do?

For twelve whole years after that night, you carried on. Relentlessly. Sometimes twice at a time, sometimes more. You are a devil. For any human, would have stopped at the sight of the pain in my eyes, or upon hearing it in my voice. You never stopped.

One night, it got so bad, I passed out! Yet, you never stopped.

When at twelve, my friends were all excited about menarche, I was shrouded in doubts and fears and many many tears! – What if I got pregnant? What if I got a disease? What if…?  When at fifteen, all the girls my age were flirting harmlessly with boys, I couldn’t. All I could do was pump myself with various birth control pills, and morning afters too. When at seventeen, my mind needed to focus on my education, a terrible abortion, took my health, and took my future. When at 26 most of my colleagues are happily – married and expecting kids, I live alone, with the dark knowledge of the fact that I can never hold a life in me.

You broke me. You wrecked me!

People respected you. Because they had no idea. They didn’t know the darkness of your soul. They didn’t know your cruelty. You were a beast! But they didn’t know.

When I run away from you, I had to keep reminding myself, that I didn’t deserve all that torture. I struggled a lot, but it would never beat my struggles with you.

You hardened me up! I couldn’t look into the face of a man, without reliving my agonies. I couldn’t be nice to a person, because then they could abuse me. I couldn’t love anybody, because love requires forgiveness, and I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t hope for or in anything, because all my hopes of you letting me go, were dashed night after night for twelve long years.

I was an angry woman. A bitter woman. A woman of very few words, because my story couldn’t be heard. But I’m glad that it’s passed! I’m glad I exposed you! I’m glad you didn’t die without getting caught. I’m so glad!

Today, there’s this beautiful young man who wants to marry me. He’s sweet and sensitive, spontaneous and charming. But I can’t let him in. I can’t allow him into the dark recesses of my heart. And the only reason is because you marred me! You screwed my life. You took away everything there was in me. My innocence, my dignity, my heart, my peace, my sleep, my womb, my life!

But you can’t take anymore. I’m letting go of all these emotions with this note to you. I’m free of the hate, and I’m free of the bitterness. I need to move on; I’m going to move on. I’m going to find love. I’ve started the journey. It’s the hardest journey I’ve taken. But it’s well worth it. It will make me happy. It will make me live!

So while I’m happy that you’re rotting in jail, I want you to know that I’m forgiving you. I haven’t forgiven you. I’m in the process. It may take many months, years even. But I will. And I’m only doing it because it will set me free.

It will set me free to love that young man who’s stood firmly by me for the past two years, even though I never spoke a kind word to him. It will set me free to finally let him in. It will soften my heart. It will give me hope.

 I’m forgiving you ‘dad’ not because you deserve it, but because I deserve it.

I’m going to be free!

Signed with Love,

Amanda