For the first eighteen years of my life, you weren’t there. I didn’t hear a word from you, not even a card on my birthdays or for Christmas. I will be the first to tell you, that sucked.
I mean, for god’s sake, you are my father. You were supposed to be there to teach me how to play sports, and help me learn to fight, but you didn’t. Luckily for you, I never was one for sports, and I learned to fight just fine on my own.
However, when you did finally show up, it worked out rather well I thought. I wasn’t doing too well with the life I’d created for myself, and I needed out. I wanted a temporary crash, a way to just hang out for a while and relax. For a while I wanted to do nothing. You wouldn’t just let me.
You sent me back to the east coast, relatively near my mother, and sent me to a guy who gave me a job. I worked for a while and saved up. I made connections there that helped me reach the point I am at today.
Talking to you over these past few years, however sporadically, has really been a blessing. I’ve learned that a few of my traits have been genetically passed down to me, such as my annoying habit of believing I am smarter than everyone, and my need to defend my friends and beliefs to the death if necessary.
I guess my point is that our relationship has been rocky at best, and rather short-lived in comparison to a lot of father and sons. However, in spite of all that, I really do love you, and I want to know you better. I don’t want to be the one at your funeral who is only there out of family obligations, listening to all of the other mourners sharing stories about you, but having none to share myself.
So, Billy, Dad, Father, whatever, call me or send me a letter, or a postcard, a smoke signal, or Hell, even a nice fruit basket every once in a while. Come and see me, or invite me to see you if you can’t get away. Seriously, I want to be a son, but in lieu of that, I at least want to be a friend.
Come on now, if there is anything you should know about me, then you should know that I don’t ask for much. A call shouldn’t be out of the realm of reason.
Literally your only son,