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A Letter To My Father

December 5, 2007

A letter to my father, Manuel Morales

Well it’s about that time, your oldest son is about to turn 29, and as I reach the 30 year mark in my life I’m starting to realize that I can no longer spend the rest of my life hating you. I spent my youth longing for a father, and the later part of my life resenting you for not being there.

I’m a father now; I have a baby girl whom I love more than life itself. She’s four, but you wouldn’t know that. I’ve become a man, I have a family, and there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for them. Sure it hasn’t always been easy, anything worth wild rarely is. I want you to know that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished has been in spite of you, not because of you. I made a promise to myself and my family that I would do everything in my power to make sure that I was there for them, the way that my father never was.

I wish I could tell you how much you’ve hurt me throughout the years, but the sad thing is that you will never know. You were never there to see the tears as I cried myself to sleep at night, or the tears welling up in my eyes as I write this now.

Some of my fondest memories as a child were those few times that you would show up unexpectedly at my grandparent’s house to tell me that you loved me and that you would always be there for me… only to wake up in the morning and find out that you were gone, slipping away in the night without even saying goodbye.

I remember a few times going to my grandparent’s house to find a package for me, from you. Usually some kind of subscription for children’s books that you would never pay for, so I would only end up with the first book out of the series and that was it. I cherished those books though, even keeping the boxes that they came in until they fell apart. They were a reminder that I did have a father out there… somewhere.

I loved you unconditionally like any child would love his parent, hoping that one day you would show up and want me in your life again. Eventually, reality set in and that hope turned into hopelessness, that hopelessness eventually turned into hate, and that’s where I’ve spent most of my life: hating you.

I’m sorry, but I can’t let you have that kind of power over me anymore, I can’t let that hate run my life. So if by some stroke of luck this letter finds its way to you, this February 13th think about what you were doing and what you were feeling exactly 29 years ago, and know that your son forgives you. You have a beautiful granddaughter, and I would very much like you to be a part of her life.

Your Son,
Brad

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  1. December 5, 2007 at 3:37 am

    After writing this, I’ve decided to include some more information about my father in hopes that somebody who reads this may know him. His real name is Emanuel Morales-Chavez; he grew up in Nuevo Laredo Mexico a small border town that sisters Laredo Texas, he lived in the Chicago area around 1979, and has a brother that moved there in hopes of finding him named Efrain Chavez. I also know that he was in an accident and now receives social security and/or disability as a result.

    I know that in all probability, he’s too old to be computer literate enough to be on the internet looking for me, but I know he has other children younger than me, although I don’t know their names, I know that he has one set of twins.

    I know it’s a long shot but hopefully through an act of internet kindness, this may find its way to him or someone who knows him.

  2. Liz
    December 11, 2007 at 11:22 am

    This is heart-wrenching and beautiful. I believe your honesty and love for your father will resonate in the universe and get this message to him somehow.

  3. December 11, 2007 at 4:10 pm

    I appreciate your words of kindness Liz, as always

    Here’s to karma and good joo-joo *cheers*

  4. Idetrorce
    December 15, 2007 at 6:17 pm

    very interesting, but I don’t agree with you
    Idetrorce

  5. December 16, 2007 at 5:49 am

    I don’t know what there is to “agree” with, it’s a proverbial “letter in a bottle” to my father, but hey everybody’s entitled to an opinion. 🙂

  6. December 26, 2007 at 11:08 am

    What a touching letter. My father died when I was five and I had my own issues but at least I had the solace in knowing he didn’t just leave.

    I hope you find what you are looking for. However, the best thing you can do is being the father you never had to your little girl. And someday, she’ll grow up to marry someone more like you and less like your father.

    (Oh, and the “i don’t agree” comment is comment spam generated by a robot. I get those all the time.)

  7. sahra
    April 4, 2008 at 12:44 pm

    Your letter was very touching i recently wrote a letter to my father and i could’nt bring myself to forgive him like you did , i think you are very strong person to be able to do that . maybe i might understand when i have my own kids in the future

  8. April 4, 2008 at 2:43 pm

    It was a long road getting to where I’m at in my life, but at a certain point I just couldn’t carry that hate around with me any more; it was adversly affecting too many aspects in my life. Trust me, at first it was reluctantly that I forgave him, but the ballance and inner peace that it’s given me was well worth it. I think the main thing is that you are able to live with yourself, and not let your feeling lash out against others.

    Good luck to you, I know abandonment issues are tremendously hard to deal with. Feel free to stop by and ask for advise if you need. 🙂

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