Today is normally the second time of the year that I show
appreciation for one of my parents, both of whom happen to be my mother.
Currently she is out of the country, and I have written a few posts in regards
to her and our relationship as it has varied over the years. Today I’m going to
do something a little different; I’m going to write a letter to my real father
who I have never had the chance to meet. I’m certain that I have only alluded
to him situationally, and never delved into it any farther. So, here goes.
Dad,
It’s strange that I’ve never called anybody that, or even
seen it written at the end of a birthday card or letter. I’ve heard you
referred to as Garry or “that asshole” a few times, and I vaguely remember seeing a fuzzy picture of you once, but I’ve never thought of
you as a father until recently. I know your last name, and every now and then I
think my life could have been easier if my last name were Clark instead of
Maertz. Can you imagine having to sound out or spell your last name for
everybody you’ve ever met? That’s your fault.
I’m getting off track here. I’m 38 years old now and I
wanted to tell you something: I forgive you. I’ve reached a point in my life
where I can no longer hold on to resentment or anger; it only bogs me down. For
a long time I wondered if you had stayed in my life, if you had stuck around to
raise your two boys, if my life would have gone differently. You see I took the
same path that you were taking when you left, and it left me scarred
emotionally, physically, and mentally. I thought I could go through life
selling and doing drugs, drinking excessively, and objectifying women, but all
of that lead me nowhere. I thought I had everything I wanted, but I only had a
few things I desired, and nothing I actually needed.
I found myself in
prison where I finally had the chance to sit down and look at my mistakes and
start actively fixing everything I had broken over the decades of insanity. It
is there that I realized how hard it must have been for you to be living that
life and fathering children you had no ability to take care of. If I am
grateful for one thing in my years of addiction, it is that somehow I managed
to not have any kids. I, too, would not have had the capacity to be a father,
and I would have taken the same road: I was no better.
I want you to know that I pray for you. Not every day, not
all of the time, but every now and then I pray that you have found your way
into a life that doesn’t beat you down and tear at your heart. I pray that the
children you had later on in life do have a father that loves them. I was lucky
enough to have a mother that was as strong as any two parents. Even though some
might say I wasted a good portion of my life, I would say that it just took me
this long to become the best man I can be and I know that someday, because of everything
my mom did for me after you left, I will be the best dad there can be (provided
someday I actually find a human female to mate with.)
I doubt you will ever come across this, but I want you to
know that you are my dad. We have never met, but I will always have a place for
you in my heart. There is no more room in my life for anger, there is only
love, and I love you Dad.
Vince
