Dear Dad,

Been a long time! That was a bad joke, but since I hardly knew you, I like to think that you’d understand my sense of humor.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about you these last few weeks. My therapy led me back to you because of my abandonment issues. I told her that I didn’t think your dying was a reason for my feeling that any relationship I entered would end up in someone leaving me for no reason. She seems to think otherwise. The more I think about it, the more I think she’s right. Talk about daddy issues! That’s another joke.

I was only 5 when you died. And even though it pains me now to admit this, I didn’t really miss you when you were gone. Not that I didn’t love you, I just didn’t remember you and didn’t have any relationship with you. What was there to miss? Mom and Mel, though, that’s another story.

Mom always had a brave face; kept everything she was feeling away from me and Mel. You know how she is, suffers on the inside, doesn’t show many emotions. She’s still like that now, but since she’s my best friend, I can read her, and she can’t hide much from me. Though she still tries to be sneaky.

Mel, on the other hand, she turned into my worst nightmare. Abusive and mean until I became a teenager and stopped putting up with her shit. I don’t really want to go into details about her relationship with me, we’re much better now. Completely. I’ll let her tell you about her life if she ever wants to.

I can’t help but wonder, though, if our lives would have turned out differently if you hadn’t died. If we would have been a much happier and less angry family if you were there to balance us all out. My therapist said that if you were given the choice, you probably would have chosen not to die that day. Is that true? Would you have rather been with us? I hope so, Dad.

Over the years, I’ve talked to you a few times. Maybe you heard me. If you did, do you remember what I asked you? It’s still an important question and, realistically, I know I’ll never get an actual answer. It’s still an important question to me, though. And if you do ever answer, I hope the answer is yes.

Well, that’s all I really want to say for now. Maybe I’ll write to you again someday. Keep you updated about what’s going on in my life and maybe some things that you missed when I was growing up. You missed a lot, Dad. I’m 44 now, almost 45. Your baby isn’t a baby anymore. How’s it make you feel to be such an old man? Another joke.

Talk to you soon.

You’re Daughter,

Lizzy