Dear Dad

Dear Dad - Letter One

Dear Dad,

Today's my sixteenth birthday. It's crazy when you think about how quickly time has passed since you left. Three years gone in the blink of an eye. I mean, damn... it's been eleven years since mom passed away and at that point, you might as well have bailed, because you mentally checked out. Mrs. Williamson suggested that I write to you for a long time after you left. She said it would be "therapeutic" to get these thoughts out of my head and down onto paper and for years I ignored her recommendations. That is, until now. Well, here we go...

I remember looking up to you when I was younger, you know. I would be in awe as you towered over me, hell, you towered over everyone and were larger than life in every sense of the phrase. I used to look to you for strength, your arms were bigger than my whole upper body. Yet all that physical strength couldn't make up for your lack of heart.

You remember the Williamson family, right? You have to at least remember Scott. I mean Scott and I hung out all the time. We played basketball at the park together, listened to music, and did homework in tandem. Mom loved Scott and would laugh because we were attached at the hip. She always said he was brother from another mother. You have to remember him. Well, his parents were killed recently and I can't help but to wonder if their deaths weren't at least partially accreditable to you. Sure, that might seem a little harsh, but if you look at it logically, I have every right to ask that question. Mom died and you vanished into thin air. What kind of man leaves his only child just after that child's mother died? What kind of man are you?

I know one thing... I know that I won't be a man like you. I actually shuddered a bit when I wrote 'man'. Can I even call you that? If there's anything I can guarantee, it's that I won't leave my family stranded. I won't leave my loved ones wondering where I am. I won't leave. I won't leave. I won't...

Anyway, my first day at the diner is next week. Scott got me a job busing tables at the restaurant he works at and our friend Steve, you remember Steve, right? Steve cooks at the diner. Ha! Maybe I should say, Steve tries to cook.

I gotta tell you... as weird as it is to write this, when Scott's mom was killed in her own apartment, I discovered that I had special abilities, some might say 'super powers'. I grabbed ahold of Scott and flew out the window of his bedroom and soared above the city to safety. Me... the kid who was deathly afraid of Ferris Wheels was rocketing at a mind-blowing rate of speed above the street lights. Me... the kid who would hide under his bed from thunderstorms... I was flying in the very clouds which would unleash the lightning that would result in so many sleepless nights.

One of my first thoughts was that I wonder if my dad would be proud. You had been gone for so long and the first thing that crossed my mind was a thought about how you would feel about your baby boy saving someone. How could I continue to spend time worrying about what you would think when you clearly stopped giving a shit about me long ago.

Mr. Williamson used to say he would never ask me to call him dad, but he looked at me as his own son. A man who only knew me from playing with his own child was willing to call me his son. Why couldn't you? Why wouldn't you, dad? What did I do that was so bad that you would go to the store for "milk" but never return?

Anyway... it's been a rough couple of days. Scott and I are finally settling in at the youth home and like I said, I start work next week. School's been alright, but I'm sure I could be doing better. I know that I have a lot more growing to do. I'm assuming these powers will continue to expose themselves. I know that I must be a better man than you are and I will do just that. I will not fail. I will not falter. I will not be like you. Where are you, dad? Where are you?