Thank you, I love you, Goodbye, You Dumbass
Dad, you left us alone with her. You never stood up to her. I watched her tear you to pieces daily. On weekends. And on weeknights. You got it way worse than we did. I wish you would’ve had her locked up. Wish you would’ve tried at least.
I know. Nobody would believe you. I know. But you didn’t have to drive her around at 1am looking for invisible babies in the backseats of parked cars and open dumpsters. You didn’t have to go along with that shit. Let her scream. Let her go do those things on her own. Then maybe they’d believe you.
Dad. The names she called you. And us. But especially you.
Dad, I got off to such a late start in life because of that shit. I saw it all. Heard too much. I was still recovering, even in my 20s. It took me that long, Dad. Longer, even.
You died. You never got to see my kids, your grandkids out of your oldest son. You got to see your grandkids out of your younger boys, but not from me.
I saw her turn. Dad, I remember. She wasn’t always like that, right? Those guys came later. Your other kids. They didn’t see it.
The best times I ever had with you, Dad, was when you’d play your old 50s records with me when I was five when Mom wasn’t home. And all the times you took us fishing, too. Thank you.
I named my first kid after one of your old albums, Dad. I was only five, but I remembered those old albums.
There was some shit you didn’t do that I wished you did. One area in particular that I think you’re a complete jackass for not doing.
But hey, you worked your ass off for us. You took us fishing. You played your records with me, before she’d come home and wreck it. Wreck the fun.
You sure as hell weren’t perfect. But you loved us. We always knew that about you. The other one, I’m not too sure about. No, don’t Don’t try to defend her. Not again. Not now. Y‘see? That’s what you were always doing. You’re still doing it.
Dad, Dad, it’s not what I came for.
I came to say, Thank you, and I love you. Dad, I never did get to say, Goodbye. Or those two.