Anonymous

I haven’t spoken to my father since 2023. Definitely can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him. I’m sure he’s lost most of his hair by now. It was thinning and salt and pepper grey, from what ever last memory this image is recalled on.

Yesterday was Father’s Day and all I did was grieve. I don’t miss him. Can’t remember a time I ever truly did, except for one memory from when I was younger and living with my aunt. He was supposed to pick up my sisters and I and take us back home with him, I think, or at least come see us. I guess I called him or he called us, I don’t remember well, but I do remember how sad and disappointed I felt after finding out he wouldn’t be able to make it after he had promised. Probably one of my more distinct memories of a time where I felt myself wishing to be with my dad and the heartbreak of feeling abandoned. Of course that wasn’t the worst of it but it’s the one that stands out among my many core memories. I remember the abuse, beatings, cruel punishments and the all too familiar paralyzing fear I constantly felt in his presence but there isn’t much point getting into all of that. The physical and even sexual abuse (not by my dad) was nothing compared to the emotional pain.

It’s such a surreal and frankly upsetting experience to grow up with an angry violent father in your home your whole life and then to be spoken to with affection and gentleness through text - of all manners - now that he’s softened with age. I didn’t know how to react the first time he told me he loved me through text. I wish I knew how to explain it better, but the experience felt overall, foreign. I didn’t know how to accept his love and you know, I’ve lived much of my life that way.

My father has always been a stranger to me. I know nothing about him. I’ve only seen one photo of his younger self. No baby pictures. Or family photos. I have no idea what my grandpa looked like. Idk what life was like for him when he first immigrated to the US. Or how he met our biological mother. Or why he despises her so much.

Sometimes my heart aches thinking about how my dad might’ve been raised and I tell myself that he did the best he could with what he had and knew. When I imagine him as a child in the place of my younger self being talked to and handled in the same way by his father, it chokes me up. Raising 3 girls as a single father is no easy feat. And unlike our biological mom, he stayed in our lives and did his duties as a parent. But as a father? Much less so. Empathizing with and feeling sympathy for my father does not make my childhood wounds heal nor feel any better. It makes me angrier than anything else. Idk if I’ll be able to forgive him. There is a part of me that believes our no contact relationship will remain up until his death. I’m willing to live with the possibility of that regret. I mean, how different could it be from right now?

I’m convinced the only reason he was being all sweet then is because he wanted someone to look after him that wasn’t his wife. Because what else is a daughter’s role to her aging father? Does that sound bitter and close-minded? It probably is. I won’t deny it. When I watch those touching videos of dad’s and their daughter’s, I can’t imagine what it must be like. The one time I can remember feeling genuine hurt and jealousy of a father-daughter relationship was listening to my former coworker’s phone call with his young teenage daughter. She was hungry and wanted food, he told her he’d have it delivered to her and he just spoke with so much affection in his voice. You could hear the way he softened for her and it actually physically hurt lmao.

The first and last time I ever opened my heart to my dad, I told him how much I wanted a real relationship between us and how I knew nothing about him. His response to me was “We can have a relationship, as long as you do as I say”. Now, I may not speak fluent Korean but I do think I understand enough to know when I am being rejected lol. And ykw else is funny? At some point I had started telling him I love you and hugging him because for some crazy reason I took it upon myself to be the better, more loving person, for the sake of trying to fix our fucked up barely existent relationship. Imagine your child asking for intimacy and love and you demand obedience lmfao. I think it was more out of a selfish desire then, but man did I feel like a fucking idiot for it. Nothing changed of course. And I think that’s all I wanted from him. Change. I gave up on that idea after a while and just accepted it. Idk when it happened but I came to the decision to stop loving him as well. It’s been a slow and near impossible process.

Throughout my entire life I have only ever tried to reach him in different ways, and every time I encountered some version of the same thing: emotional absence, rejection, control or disappointment. What do I do with a father who was both wounded and harmful? A father I can understand but can’t trust. A father I can feel compassion for but may never forgive. A father who stayed physically present but was emotionally unreachable. Again and again I am always carrying the responsibility of repairing a relationship that was never mine to repair in the first place. The same cycle is reflected in nearly all of my relationships - romantic or otherwise. I’m so tired and I feel my heart is wounded beyond repair. Someone who once felt so much and so deeply, no longer feels for anything or anyone, with the exception of animals and babies, obviously. I’m not a sociopath, but I give up. I won’t emphasize. And with that, I think I’ll end my Father’s Day grief rant here.

Now in lieu of all I’ve said, I’m also grateful to have met some truly kind men who believed in me and supported me. (Of course there were some supportive women in my life as well but this is about daddy issues). Although uncommonly rare, having known these few have made more of a positive impact on me and my perceptions than if I had not. As Gandalf once said, it is the little things that keep evil at bay.