A letter for Daddy

Dear Paul,

I called you Paul and not Dad because you are no longer deserving of the title. In fact, you are not really deserving of the salutation ‘dear’ and I should have started this letter that I am sending you with a giant ‘fuck you’. But I digress. You may wonder why, after all this time I am sending you this letter. I guess if I was to think in general terms it is to offer congratulations. Congratulations, Paul, you are going to be a Grandfather. How does that make you feel? Your family line (that you don’t give a fuck about) is to persist. Against all odds, despite the fucked up upbringing you inflicted upon me with your selfish egoism, you’re going to be a Grandfather. How does that make you feel? I hope you feel really fucking good about it – and I hope you treasure that good feeling – because you deserve as much as a rapist deserves sexual gratification. Because of you, because of you and your selfish idealism, your Grandson is to be born into a broken home. What you visited upon me I now visit upon my unborn child. Does that make you feel proud? To see your lineage persist in a fashion you are comfortable and familiar with? Because of you, because you are MY Father and because I spent my formative years thinking about you and wondering if you would be proud of me and wondering what you would say to me and wondering what it would have been like to have someone show me how to shave, and taking me for my first pint. Because I looked to your example and refused my Mother’s influence I have become a cunt, just like you. Like Father, like Son. You could not love me and as a result I cannot love anything.

You must be so proud.

Did you know that after all these years I found Joe? Just think, Paul, your three Sons will be together soon. You used to imagine that we would come together over your grave. You had some incredulous desire for your Sons who you cared not for to be united in grief. Do you know, you bastard, that my younger Brother refuses to meet me because he is frightened you might be involved in some way? Do you realise just how that makes me feel that my own flesh and blood will not come to see me or give me his address because he is terrified you might be hiding around the corner? What did you do, Paul? What did you do to this poor child to make him so terrified of you that he won’t even see his own Brother? How did you treat Astrid to make her Son so afraid of you that he keeps secrets from the only family he has?

Let me tell you now, Paul, that despite my atheism, I truly hope beyond all hope that there is a God, because if there is a God and Heaven there is a Hell and that, you bastard, is where your final destination will be. You preach kindness and you try to live like a ‘true Christian’ but your past betrays you as a monster. You do not deserve anything but suffering for the suffering you have inflicted upon others. What is it, Paul? Do you want your children to be as angry and hostile as you are? You win. I am my Father’s Son. I am as angry and hostile as you are. I pushed away the Mother of my unborn Son, because of you. Because of the influence you have had on me I am destined to me as lonely and miserable as you are.

But let me tell you now. Your two other Sons will not be the same as me. They won’t suffer the same fate as I have. I will protect them from your influence. I will guide them to be better than I. I will help them to come to terms with a Father’s betrayal. I will be there for MY Brothers and we will stand together and united against YOU. You lose; Two Sons to one. 2 – 1. You cannot influence Michael and Josef like you have influenced me. I’m the old foolish one. They are young and innocent. They do not know you like I know you. They do not need to. I never want them to. I will take on board the suffering for all three of us. So that my Brothers can be free of your tyranny. So that they can lead good, fulfilling, wholesome lives. So that they can love their children as a Father should.

You lose, Paul, you lose. At least two of your Sons will be okay. You did not get under their skin like you did mine. You cannot affect them like you have me. You cannot corrupt them like you have I. They are free of you. You can never harm them. I am your victim. I am the product of your evilness and I am your legacy. I will die happily knowing that I take your shitty line with me. My boy will know nothing but love. I may not be able to love his Mother, but I’m sure you of all people can understand a Father’s love for his first born. He is my everything, my reason for living. The reason I get up in the morning and that reason I work. He’s the reason I live. Why do you live Paul? Is it a simple animal survival instinct or something more civilised? You bitter, twisted, empty fuck. What is your reason for living? Is it so that you can infect others with your poison? Why can’t you just die now and make everyone that little bit happier? I tell you, if Joe could see your grave he’d come to me. If Michael could see your grave he’d piss on it. All you do by staying alive is prolong the misery. Remember that scene from A Christmas Carol where they dance around Scrooge’s grave? That’s what we’re going to do when you die, Paul. We’ll sing ‘thank you very much’ and dance on your plot. Nobody will bring you flowers. You will rot and be forgotten.

This is the last contact you will ever have with any of your Sons. When you die we will not be at your funeral. This is goodbye. This is your funeral. You are as dead to me now as you have always been to Michael and Josef. Your Grandson will NEVER know you. Byron will be his Grandfather, not you, and I know that he will be loved and not abused. Take to your grave the knowledge that you fucked me up to the point where I can no longer recover, but remember it is a hollow victory because your other boys will be fine. My Son will have people who love him and I swear to your God that I will be a better Father then you ever was.

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