As we look toward Fathers’ Day, take some time to reflect on the children whose imprisoned dads are unable to come home.
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Dear Dad,
by Iyah Miranda
I called you today because once again I haven’t heard from you in a while.
As I listened to you repeat the same excuses, I thought, Why am I reaching out to someone who wasn’t in my life for nearly ten years? Why am I the one who has to be the adult here?
Our conversations are repetitive.
And now I’ve become immune to your disappearing.
But today my mother and I got into another argument over you.
I often feel that because you screwed up as a man, father, son and brother I am blamed for your actions. And being your child doesn’t help.
I remember the time you didn’t call me on my seventeenth birthday, the one birthday I thought you wouldn’t miss. But you did.
How do you disappear from your only daughter’s life and return to be the same man you were when you left?
You left a huge gap in my life. And now that I’m almost eighteen I understand more in depth about all the drama I observed when I was a little girl.
I feel as if our relationship is based on lies and deceit. I still don’t know why you were imprisoned. I still don’t know why you never reached out to me. There are so many stories I can’t keep up with them all.
I hear stories from everyone else about you, but I can never ask the real story because I feel as if you’ll lie to me as you always do. So I just sweep everything under the rug as always and move on.
When you came back into my life four years ago, my mother didn’t want to tell me the truth about things and I got mad at her because I thought that was unfair. Now, I have questions for you.
- Were you a drug addict?
- Why were you incarcerated?
- When you told me you went back to jail was it really over me?
- Why haven’t you changed?
- Why don’t you help my mother out financially?
- Why do I, your daughter, have to ask for money?
I’m so disappointed in you because you chose to live “that lifestyle.” It seems as if you want to hustle and rely on people for the rest of your life.
I don’t see any change. It’s sad that I see you, my own blood, as a con artist.
I wish you didn’t harbor so much animosity. You don’t seem to care about having a relationship with your own brothers.
Everyone says I look just like you—and I couldn’t deny that even if I wanted to. It’s so weird how I’m literally a replica of you. I make the same facial expressions as you do. I have bags underneath my eyes like you.
I want to be accepted by you, but the truth is, I’m scared of becoming you.
I try to use our relationship as a motivation to go far in life. But I become so frustrated with you because you are so blessed, so talented, so intelligent, yet you choose again and again to follow the wrong path.
I love you, Dad, but our relationship is tainted and I just can’t become you.
Sincerely,
Your Clone
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P.O.P.S. provides a resource for learning to deal with and to express the deep emotional scars from the imprisonment of family members.
THE FIRST POPS ANTHOLOGY is now available. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy, please contact [email protected]
Photo: by H o l l y./Flickr