Who would have thought that such a small word—just six letters long—could have such a huge impact? Who would have thought that even with an impenetrable shell to protect me, I’d be so shaken by it? Who could have imagined that, once again, guilt would resurface when faced with this person who—I had promised myself—would never hurt me again?
Yes, Dad, I’m talking about you here. Throughout my youth, I felt like I had to struggle, to constantly seek positive attention, a sign of affection, or encouragement from you. For a long time, I felt like I was swimming against the current because nothing I could do or say was ever good enough for you. For a long time—and even today, from time to time—I feel inferior to others and tend to compare myself to them. After experiencing great disappointment over the relationship I’d have liked to have with you, I barricaded myself in a hallway not far from you, but one that at least allowed me to try to live my life on my own without expecting to receive anything from you.
That day, when we found out you had cancer again—and that this time, major surgery would be necessary—I told myself that maybe it was time to change the path I’d chosen to take some fifteen years ago. Unfortunately for me, imagine my surprise at your reaction to my invitation to dinner… that lump in my throat returned, along with a very strong sense of sadness—the realization that nothing will change despite my deepest, most buried desire; I’ll probably never be good enough for you, and I’ll probably never be able to see in your eyes or hear in your words the sincere sentiments that would fill this immense void that has always lived within me.
Still, I try my best to be there for you, perhaps secretly hoping that a little light will come on inside you and that you’ll realize what has become of me…
Once I’ve finished writing this and reread it, I feel terrible; I feel guilty for having these thoughts. Why should I feel responsible for others, responsible for what people think of me and the feelings they have toward me? We’ll be parents our whole lives. I’m drawing on this experience so that my children won’t have to go through the same feelings. And deep down, a small part of me desperately wishes that my dad would realize how much I loved him and how much I longed for his love and recognition.