It’s been four years since I left, and seven years since you shunned me. Happy Father’s Day from the daughter who never meant anything too you. The daughter you “loved and spoiled” until your precious son came into existence. The daughter you hugged and cuddled until your wife’s tantrums made you stop. The daughter you sacrificed to keep peace in your household. The daughter you threatened to keep away from your mother and siblings if they interfered with how she was being raised.
Do you remember me at all? Did you ever love me or see me as a human being? When you touched me and played secret games with me as a toddler, did you know you were sexually abusing me? Did you care at all? When you caught your wife treating me the same way, did you try to stop her? When the religious people came to “babysit” me or the contractors spent “private time” alone with me, did you try to stop them? Was the money worth selling your daughter? You treated my wounds and protected me from your wife’s physical abuse, but you let me be your housekeeping slave.
Did you enjoy having sex with me? Did you enjoy forcing me to service you? Did you enjoy punishing me by starving me? Did you make me get good grades because you cared or because pride wouldn’t let you have a dumb daughter? Why did you force me to do my brother’s homework? Why did you punish me for getting a bronze medal in a Tae kwon do tournament? Because my brother didn’t win or get a medal?
Mostly, though, I want to know why you let your wife hurt me and say terrible things about me. Why you ignored me and also said terrible things about me. Why did you sell me to the cult? Why did you let my pediatrician rape and drug me? And why did you rape me? Blame me for getting pregnant? Try to keep me a child and a slave instead of becoming an independent young woman?
I will never know the answers to these questions. Every day, the fog of denial dissipates more. And I realize my whole childhood was a lie. You never cared about me. You never wanted to see me. You never acknowledged me unless I was useful. And you taught me to hide my light or risk being rejected.
I loved you unconditionally growing up. You were my super hero and number one favorite person. I admired you and wanted to be like you. You could do no wrong back then. Not even mom, hard as she tried, could change that. Then I hit adolescence. My body changed. I wasn’t your little girl anymore. Other men tried to take my attention away from you. And you hated that.
I grew up. Started my own life away from you. You couldn’t control my life anymore. And I realized the painful truth. You don’t care about me. Funny, but I still love you. You are my biological father even though you are not my dad. I call you “dad” out of respect for the food and shelter you provided me growing up. Nothing else.
Who is my real Dad? Uncle Teddy is my dad. He loved me and cared about me; taught me lessons about respect and boundaries; bandaged my scrapes and dried my tears. My real Dad died when I was eight years old, and I never really got over that. You never forgave me for wanting Uncle Teddy to be my dad either. The night we learned of his death is the first time you raped me. It killed you that I wasn’t a virgin, but how could you know Mom and Dr. D had been raping me for two years before that? And of course it was my fault for letting them rape me.
But life is different now. I gave you 29 years of my life in exchange for raising and sheltering me through childhood and adolescence. You gave me the courage to walk away when you shunned me. Now I am my own person. Not your daughter anymore. Part of me still grieves for the shattered illusions. Part of me rejoices in the freedom of saying Goodbye forever.
And this is goodbye. Good bye biological father. You don’t have a hold on me anymore. Good bye Dad. I love you and miss you always. Never again will I forget you.