Letter

Dear Daddy,

When is the last time you risked a quick glimpse toward us? I am afraid that you would be ashamed of me now. Things have a way of messing up for me, and I try so hard to keep them on the level….well, not always, I guess, but sometimes I try hard.

Can you see Mama? She’s getting older faster, more tired, and too stressed out. I worry so much about her, yet part of me resents helping her relieve her stress. What’s that about, do you know? I have my theories. I keep thinking that, especially where Mama is regarded, you would slap the crap out of me and tell me to stop being an asshole. That sounds pretty much like something Johnny would do.

It’s Johnny’s birthday in two days, Daddy. He will be 28. I wonder if it sometimes bothers him that you are not here for special days. It does bother me. I cried through my graduation from high school, because I wanted you there and you couldn’t be, of course. Maybe it can be a little gratifying that even I, the worst of your children, miss you so much. Life is definitely not the same without you, Daddy. I didn’t know how it really was back then, because I had no basis for comparison. In other words, even though I’m not supposed to call any man a fool, I HAVE to call myself one. At least, I can’t think of any better word.

I’m not mad at you anymore. You probably know that, don’t you? I have slipped so far down in other ways that I am ashamed of myself. I feel as if I have dishonored you and Mama. Not only that, but I feel as if I am dishonoring my spouse and our children and grandchildren. It really eats away at me that I am such a virtual hermit. The only places I ever go are to other peoples’ houses. If we go to the store, I don’t usually like to go inside. Something is wrong with me, and I can’t seem to get any better. It only gets worse, and the worse it (and my hearing) gets, the more I lose respect for myself. Daddy, how can I move past these things?

I can’t count on Mama for all the answers, and you’re dead, which seems so goddamned unfair sometimes. I know you didn’t do it, and I try not to be angry about being deprived of my father, but it’s so hard sometimes. Especially when there are so many others I see, INCLUDING MY DAUGHTER ELISABETH, who don’t WANT their fathers. My Mikey keeps saying I didn’t do anything wrong. Should I believe that, Daddy? I can’t believe it, and I don’t know why not. After all the years I let your words hurt me, if you were here now, would you offer me the words I need so much for someone to say? Would you tell me that UNCONDITIONALLY I am a good person. Or bad. Whatever you REALLY think?!!!! Would you express a consistent opinion of me? Would you help me to believe in myself? Sometimes it feels like nobody here cares if I believe in myself or not, even though I know that isn’t true.

What is wrong with me, Daddy? Why did I turn out so badly when your other two children turned out so much better? Mama says that Mary Helen (Mary-dash-Helen, remember? 🙂 will swear that I have a good heart and am an honest person. Why doesn’t she ACT like she believes that of me, then? I feel like the stupid little brother who does everything wrong. Where is my consolation, Daddy? I don’t have a parent to turn to most of the time, anymore. Mama’s too busy with her life to pay attention to mine. I guess that’s kinda mutual. But what happens now? I sure don’t want YOUR mother to be my consolation. She builds me up to tear me down. My wife is going through hard times just like I am. We are not always good consolation for each other, but I wish like crazy I could change that.

I wonder if God would let you visit Elisabeth and Tiffany in dreams. If so, maybe you could help us out somehow. Help calm Tiffany down and help Elisabeth be less rebellious. Daddy, I don’t know what to do. They’re making life HELL for our older daughter, and our younger daughter doesn’t even want us. That’s fucked up, and I don’t know how to handle it. I love them so much, and I feel so fucking USELESS!!!!! I feel like a bad father, and I don’t know how to be a good one! I wish you were here for me to talk this through with. I feel so gypped right now.

How come Mama rejects me so much, Daddy? Was I that bad a son to her, too? I didn’t think so, except when I was a teenager, and you were already dead then. Was I a bad little boy for y’all? I know I did a lot of evil things, and I purposely hurt you two sometimes. Will that ever be forgiven? Why does it matter to me so much if Mama rejects me or not? I’m too old to feel so much like a little boy, aren’t I?

Help me understand things, k? Cause I’m not doing a good job on my own.

I love you, Daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t talk like this with you while you were alive.

Herm, Jr.