One of the things I am doing to better myself and
find a place of normalcy inside my head, is to be involved in a book
study with some of the guys from church. There are only three of us
in this group, and I know both of them well enough but we are
getting to know each other better with each meeting. As you might
imagine a small group allows for relationship building, the whole
idea. The book we are reading, again, is, Wild At Heart, by
John Eldredge.
I have been through two “boot camps” based upon
this book and participated in a book study with this book before, but
this time I think I am getting it. What changed? Me! And our leader
said, “We all have the field manual that goes along with this book,
so let's answer those questions and come back each week prepared to
talk about what we wrote.” Now consider that I have already been in
a recovery group for nine months at this point. And I, with a little
prompting, decided to answer the recovery questions that our manuals
ask us with all the honesty I could muster. As you can imagine that
was at first very difficult because you have to battle through a slew
of emotions, especially when you have no self esteem, and you trust
no one.
Recently, I had scrambled to get the questions
answered for chapter four of the manual but could not get them all.
Wouldn't you know it, the last thing he asked as he skipped around
some of the questions was the last one. I had not made it that far
and had not even looked at it. Just looking at the question made my
heart sink. With the premise that dad is now dead and going through
his effects, you find this letter addressed to you. The question
started off with, “What would you have loved to hear from your
father? … what would you long for it to say? Is there an
apology? An affirmation? Then Eldredge asked us to write that
letter. I could hardly speak. I could not do the question justice
by improvising at that moment.
I took some time, finished the other questions, sat
myself in the backyard and wrote that letter, sobbing most of the way
through it. It seemed that as I wrote about various aspects of my
youth, the very things that created this person I became, seemed to
drain away. I cannot remember anything so freeing.
I have had to do some difficult things in recovery
such as: writing and reading amends letters to people that I needed
to say sorry too. This is especially hard when these same people
created such havoc in me. But amends is not about the pain, or how
they react to my amends; it has everything to do with my healing and
relationship with God. One of those letters was to me, forgiving
myself; I wrote it and read it to my sponsor, thinking that I would
obtain a great release from the anguish I felt, but I felt very
little. My sponsor suggested strongly that I go to the park, find a
quiet place there, read it to God like a prayer, and then burn it;
the silly thing resisted burning. Thinking back on my persistence at
getting that paper to burn, perhaps there is a slow, gradual healing
from it and I do not see it yet, and the idea that this paper
resisted burning could be symbolic in many ways; one being the
enemies resistance to release us from his grip.
Writing this letter from dad to myself was very
emotional, and I think healing in many ways. I was so excited about
what this started in me that I have been telling anyone that will
listen what I did. Finally I am sensing some relief from the pains
inside.
So, with that I am going to share this letter that I wrote with
you.
The Letter I wish I had received.
Dear Oz,
I failed you and I am so sorry.
When you were young I failed to understand or care
about why you were struggling in school. I wish I had pursued every
avenue on your behalf. I had no idea how great the humiliation was
going to be for you and how that would have effected you. I have been
reading your writings since you began, and I see now that you would
have been great for you do have a good mind and you could have done
anything you wanted in life.
I am so sorry that I did not show you respect by not
listening to what you had to say. Instead I believed the lies your
brother told me and beat you for it. If only I had listened to you;
you were trying to tell me so many things, and I refused to listen.
I failed you as a father by not coming to your aid
when that thug slugged you in the face, and I humiliated you by
locking you in the car with all my friends looking on. Son, please, I
beg of you to forgive me for that.
Son, please forgive me for stepping aside as mom
mentally emasculated you. I deeply regret not encouraging you to
defend yourself, not only with your hands but with your words also. I
can see how the damage carried carried all the way into manhood. I
now know that if I had been the father you needed you would not have
lived in fear, especially a fear of me. I would have worked with you
as you learned to stand your ground. I did not know how to do this
well, so we both would have learned.
Son, I would have had those talks with you about
sexuality. Again, we both needed to learn something, but the biggest
area effecting both of us, would have been the lesson on boundaries
and how not to cross them. I am so sorry for I crossed yours all the
time, and I did not prevent mom from crossing your boundaries either.
Given the chance to do it over we could have
practiced communication skills; I by listening to you. Again, please
forgive me. If I had known I would have done things so differently.
Son, it is never to late to say I love you, and I
do. A lesson that I have learned to late is that a real man is not
ashamed to show his love to his son, especially his first born.
I love you
Dad.