Pamela Des Barres runs writing workshops for women. Once a year, she holds Doll Con, where her Dolls from all over the world join together and write.
Last year, she asked us to write a letter to our father. Now that my father has passed, I will finally share the letter I wrote to him.
Dear Dad,
This is a letter I will never send, so I will finally be honest with you. We've spent our time together dancing on the edges of truth neither of us want to admit.
Truth: I am living a life you would not approve of. In fact, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't approve of me being at DollCon this weekend.
Truth: You treated your children badly. In fact, you still treat my brother - who had a PhD and three post docs and is over 60 - like everything he does is a mistake. What made you do these things. Why were you so hypercritical? Remember when you told me I was breathing wrong?
Who hurt you, Dad? Who taught you that this is how you treat people you love? Who were your role models?
Truth: You were horrible to my mother. I don't think you remember, but I do. I remember how you yelled at her and threw a butter knife at her. Remember how it hit her?
Truth: When you were in a good mood, you could be so much fun. I still love museums and zoos and amusement parks. You would ask where would we get the most acceleration on a rollercoaster? Where would you get the most lift against the safety bar? We had fun talking about the physics of thrills. I think you bored easy, so you happiest surrounded by stimulation.
Question: What was up with you listening to a football game on the radio while you had the same game on the TV while you were grading papers? It was a terrible cacophony. To this day, I don't like watching sports due to all that noise.
I will never send this. Mom used to say to let sleeping dogs lie. So I will.
