Dear Father

Dear Father,1

I don't know if I should call you that but I don't know what else to call you. Your name's Jose right? Or was it something else. I remember reading it in a letter. A letter about you. About what an awful father you were. It was a letter used to allow me to get adopted. You know by my dad. The guy that raised me and loved me. The guy that is everything you should be but aren't. He's not perfect you know, he smokes and drinks, but he's here when I need him. You aren't. You ran away from me. What kind of father does that? That's why I don't like to think about you much. It makes me feel worthless like a piece of trashed just tossed out the window. Do you care that I feel like that? Do you ever think about me? Do you even remember my name? Or have you lost track of all your children that you've turned your back on. Of course why would you want to think about me. You have your own life. You got your money, you kids, you wife. Why should you care about me.2

A couple months ago I found out you almost died. It's awful if you think about it. I mean my father was dying and I find out about it months later. I guess people figure that I don't want to know. It would make sense since I bet if I were dying you would care less. But I do want to know. I want to be a part of your life. I want for you to be a part of mine. I want for you to care. Is that too much to ask? I can't stand the fact that I don't even know what you look like. I've never even talked to you. I want to meet you but I'm scared. Are you going to try yo run. Like you did before. Do I really mean that little to you that you won't take a few minutes to meet me. I'm your daughter. Your own flesh and blood. You know it scares me when people say I'm a lot like you. They say I look like you and I'm smart like you. A part of me though is afraid. Afraid I have your heart. Your cold careless heart.3

I really don't know what else to say. How can I talk to you, I don't even know you. Your a stranger to me, like that guy I passed while walking home from school. I could bump into you tomorrow and not even know it. I have a dad. A guy that read to me when I was younger, and helps me with my homework. But it's not the same. It breaks my heart when I have to do projects in school about what you inherited from each parent. Because I can't. I don't know.4

Some days I hate you and could careless if your dead or alive. Other days all I want is for you to find me, pick me up, hug me and tell me you love me. You are my father and all I want is for you to acknowledge the fact that I, Anne, am you daughter. Love me, hate me, I don't care, just know who I am, know I'm alive.5

Love ,no matter what,6

Your daughter7