A Letter to Dad

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been told that I need to write a bit more. Put pen to paper, let the keyboard do the talking, and have some word vomit. Here I am.

A good friend of mine told me that I have plenty of stories to tell and that there is someone out there that wants to hear them. This week during my bi-weekly therapy session, my therapist, with who I have had a relationship with for about 5 years, told me that I should write about my Dad. Coincidence. right? She said, write him a letter that he will never receive, write about the pain he caused you, write about how he made you feel, and write about the incident that changed your life when you were 15. There were many incidents my Father and I had that changed my life, and this was one of them.

I thought the relationship my father and I had was great! We laughed, liked the same music, watched sports together, and even though he was married, we looked for women together. That last one is the most shocking part of remembering him. We looked for women together. I was a kid. He was married to my Mother. Why was I being put through this? I’ll never understand it. I’ve asked the questions to him, but he remains a victim and won’t hold himself accountable.

I remember him telling me that at my age, 15, he had 4 girlfriends and that I should have the same amount. Right then and there I vowed to be different. To not put anyone through the pain that he put my Mother through, I vowed to be a better father. It was motivation. So far, I’d like to think I’m accomplishing this. I am able to be a safe space for my two girls, I cherish their feelings, I allow them to be themselves, and I am here for them when they ask for help. But as always, “Practice makes progress” this has been something my barber and good friend, Marcell, has told me. I continue to learn.

Kendrick Lamar released “Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers” on May 13th, and during my first listen I felt overtaken by emotions. Specifically on the song “Father Time”. Kendrick touches on emotions that a song has never made me feel, shame, embarrassment, disappointment, and lastly understood. Listening to this song brought me to think about my Father and the pain he put me through. The hurt that at the time I thought was love. The highs and lows. I felt them all.

At 15 my schooling wasn’t important to me, I failed Geometry multiple times, I was called the “class clown” by my teachers, and I thought being “cool” was important. How many of us? As I said, I failed Geometry during the school year, Summer School, here I come! At this point, I had my first real girlfriend, a sense of freedom, rebellion, and puppy love. All I wanted to do was be with her, she was amazing. She went to Summer School for Band, I think. She played the trumpet. She was great at that too.

I failed that Summer session. My mother picked me up and my girlfriend came over. I put my report card on the dining room table, “Just wait until your dad gets home” said my Mom. I went to the bedroom with my girlfriend and hid. It's my bedroom, my safe space, my girlfriend is here, what's the worst that can happen, I thought.

I was wrong. He got home and looked at my grades, called me out into the living room, and told me to kneel on the tile. I did. He said, “I have Daddy in my hands, you know what that means?” I've always hated rhetorical questions. Maybe that's why I don’t like questions much. He called his belt “Daddy”. When “Daddy” was out, I was getting a beating. So, you guessed it, I got a beating in front of my girlfriend. I was being made an example. He wanted to show his power over me. He made me feel little, horrified, isolated, and stunned. After a few whips, it was over. I got up, went to my room, and silently cried in my girlfriend's arms.

Kendrick said “Protect yourself, trust nobody, only your mama ‘nem
This made relationships seem cloudy, never attached to none
So if you took some likings around me, I might reject the love”

I’ve been avoidant, distant, and closed off since.

The letter to my father from a 15-year-old me would not show anger, I don’t feel the need for that. It would be mostly about, “why?”. Why would he do that? What made him think that was okay? What did he get from that incident? But those aren’t questions that he will answer. Here is my letter to my Dad.

Dad,

Fuck off. Forever.

Go to therapy, you need it.

“‘Cause everything he didn’t want was everything I was”

Love,

Julio Aguirre.

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