A Letter to My Dad

By: JWSmith
(© 2012 by the author)
Editor: Rock Hunter

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Author's Note: Short stories are a genre completely different from any other form of storytelling. One has to get the story told in as few words as possible, while getting all the emotion, angst and whatever else packed into it. One master of the short story that I admire is Nick from Down Under. To him I dedicate this one.

It wasn’t that I forgot you, Dad. God, I fought Mom tooth and nail for the right to be tested to see if my kidney would be compatible after your accident. I prayed for hours that you’d live when the doctor told us you were hanging on by a mere thread. No, Dad, I’ve never stopped loving you and I never forgot you, even during my craziness.

I was lying on my bed awhile ago here at Michael’s remembering all the times you spent with me. I don’t know how many times you were tired after a hard day in your office, yet there you always were, out in the backyard tossing a ball for me to hit or playing catch with me. I remember when I was quite small how you would hold me up so I could toss the basketball through the basket. And how you’d kneel behind me with your arms around me, your hands over mine on the bat as you taught me how to swing at the T-ball.

As I grew into a gangly teenager, I practiced so hard to become the best baseball player on the team so you would be proud of me. I never grew tall like you, so I never made it on the basketball team, but that didn’t keep you from getting out on the driveway playing basketball with my buddies and me.

I’ve always appreciated how you always helped me with my studies. You taught me to love learning. I knew that if I had any problems, you had the solution – even better than my teachers sometimes.  You’ve given me so much of yourself. But the one thing that means the most to me is that your attitude towards me didn’t change one iota when I told you that I’m gay. You still loved me.

When Mom explained to me that I couldn’t  give you one of my kidneys because you weren’t  my biological father I was devastated. I felt so betrayed. I couldn’t give you what you needed because I wasn’t what I thought I was – your son. I hated Mom for being untrue to you. I wondered how you could love me when I was the symbol of that betrayal. Then when she told me how I came into existence it set me back on my heels. Bryan and I did the same thing with Niki. Both of us did her twice each that night. Yeah, we were stupid and didn’t use protection. I guess we were lucky that Niki was on the pill. But then I thought about you and me, and wondered if I could’ve done the same as you – lovingly raise the child as my own whether it was mine or Bryan’s... I just don’t know.

But there was a major difference between your experience and mine. You two were both in love with Mom and you and Mom were already engaged. Michael was your best friend, and if what Mom implied is true, he was gay and in love with you. Niki, Bryan, and I were only good friends. So, yeah, we were lucky.

As I’ve contemplated my years as a preteen, I get the feeling that you loved me more than my little brother – your biological son. I don’t really know if that’s true or not, but you’ve always made me feel special. I hope Mikey has never felt less loved – he’s my brother and I love him so much. Maybe it was that I took up the role of big brother and taught him how to hit a ball or make a basket. I know I’ve tried to show him as much love as you’ve shown me.

Mom told me that you insisted I have your full name and as I thought about it, I kind of felt like I’d cheated Mikey out of his rightful place. But then I realized that I had nothing to do with it. It was your love for me as your son. I am honored, Dad.

When Mom told me about Michael, I was fascinated by the idea of having another father out there that loved me from a distance. Mom explained how he stepped out of the picture when I was born so that I could be raised in a normal family. I tried to think of him as just the sperm donor, but that was just too cold and crass, especially after Mom told me how he’s always kept up with my life. So I’ve decided to think of him as my biological father – but never as my dad. I’ve only got one dad and that’s you, Dad. Still I had this desire, need if you will, to meet Michael and get to know him. And over the months before graduation it became an obsession. Dad, I apologize. I’m ashamed for the way I acted and carried on those last two months. I know my obsessive actions hurt you. Please, Dad, forgive me.

You want to know something ironical? I had all these crazy, really stupid ideas of how I’d relate to Michael as my father. It didn’t happen that way at all. He’s more like a big brother or a best friend. It’s kind of neat that I look like him, but there’s no relating to him in a parental manner even though he introduces me as his son.  I’ve been here two weeks, and I’ve got another two weeks here.  It’s been a blast getting to know him, but I’m ready to come home and get a hug from my dad.

I love you, Dad,

Brad

Posted: 07/20/12