An open letter to my father, wherever he may be

Dear Dad,

When I was born in February of 1971 the men of Apollo 14 were walking on the moon. I guess I should’ve known then that nothing about my life would be normal. And where were you? No where.

Where were you when I broke my collar bone playing parachute by jumping off a bunk bed with a trash bag when I was four? No where.

Where were you when I stuck my hand on a seemingly cold burner and scorched rings on my palm when I was three? No where.

Where were you when I broke my jaw playing hockey? No where.

Where were you when I won state and made all-state in rugby my senior year in high school? No where.

Where were you when I got laid the first time when I was fourteen?

Where were you when I went to my senior prom, got drunk for the first time, learned how to hit a curve ball, learned how to shave, learned how to ride a bike, play football, wrestle, play chess, poker, gin, hearts, or go fucking fish? That’s right, no where.

Why weren’t you there? You forsook your son and abandoned your God given responsibility. You left a good woman to fend for herself and her only baby boy. You left, you left, you left.

As I sit writing this letter there are so many thoughts, so much baggage, the vestiges of lost youth and a stolen childhood. That’s what you stole from me you fucking coward, you stole my childhood. Because you shirked your responsibility and abandoned your son he had to grow up earlier than was right, earlier than nature dictates, earlier than he wanted.

My mother, God bless her, assumed your job and soldiered on. She raised a good man. And I’m the man I am today because of her. She’s twice the man you’ll ever be. She stayed, she comforted me when I burned my hand, took me to the hospital to bind that collar bone, drew up my protein drink I needed with a jaw wired shut, gazed with pride as I accepted the trophy we won, and jeered me when I came home drunk. She was there, my beloved mother, so strong yet so sweet. She sacrificed everything, long hours, shitty bosses, and a son seemingly bent on his own destruction.

So here I sit, and where are you? A real no where man sitting in his no where land making his no where plans for nobody.

Fuck you very much.

Your son, in biology only.