I don't know if you'll ever read this.
I don't know, if somehow you even find this, you'll even want to read it.
But if you do, if you ever happen upon this, I just hope you'll look at my words and think about them, I hope you make the connection that this letter is for you. Because if you read it to the end, if you take the time to look at it and think about what I have to say, that would prove me wrong. It would prove that you aren't the person I think you are. And truly, I hope I'm wrong.
And since I want you to read this and not feel alienated, to not feel attacked, perhaps I should take this opportunity to say words I would otherwise leave unsaid.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I never accepted you into my life. I'm sorry I never liked you, and I'm sorry how obvious it was that I never wanted you around.
I always was hesitant of you. I never was able to put my finger on it, and I don't think I ever was able to justify the "why" to my father. I simply wanted you out of my life. Maybe it had to do with the fact that everything was centered on you. Or maybe it was how you made conversation with me, but in the eight years that you were my stepmom, we never did actually talk. God, but I hope you aren't who I think you are. Not only for my sake but for my father's, my sister's, your children's, your grandson.
And it is not your being a step-parent that I disliked you. I have a step-father, and I aspire to one day be as selfless as he, as kind, loving, smart, and supportive. I was much younger when my mom told me she was remarrying than I was when my Dad told me. I told her I didn't want her to marry him because I thought I'd lose my dad to a replacement. But my step-father has become my friend, and I lost my Dad to you more than he.
So that aside, I do not think that I am wrong about you. I do not think you will read my entire letter to you. It is (in a sense) criticism, but in my eyes, it is also a challenge. So I say again, prove me wrong. Read my thoughts and just think, for in an act that small, you will prove you are a bigger person than I believe you to be.
My first qualm is one from middle school, and yes, I am more than capable of holding a grudge. It was a band concert, one of the few we'd have each year, and you were in the audience. On your phone. I saw that from the stage, and I had nothing I could do to express my surprise, my anger, my confusion. You didn't notice when we finished our songs, and you almost forgot to clap.
I have other stories, but I believe that that one is perhaps the perfect example. You couldn't be bothered with something else in that moment, it was all you.
And then there were the countless marching band competitions, half-time shows, and jazz band gigs. I did jazz band after school my freshman year, and our final concert was in a music house downtown. My dad wasn't there because you couldn't or maybe wouldn't reschedule a date. They say that actions speak louder than words. I was deafened by that sound.
So yes, you did small things that built upon my nerves, and yes, I can hold grudges. But you never made reparations, and now it's far too late.
I was in shock for the months during and after my dad had cancer. I never really came to terms with it until after he had recovered, until after the danger had passed. While he was sick I didn't do much, I couldn't do much. I unfairly blamed myself for being unable to drive, because I couldn't take him to the doctor or take care of him after the surgery. But I consoled myself, knowing that he had you. You knew what you were doing. Cancer was something you had, sadly, been made familiar with. I told myself he was in good hands during that time, and after he was cured, I was glad you had been there for him.
But I was wrong about you being there.
And any scrap of respect I ever had for you is gone.
Before his diagnosis, my Dad was working feverishly to ready the house for you to move in. He redid the upstairs shower, reframed all the windows and doors, and continued all his work throughout his recovery. He could barely leave the house, but he did all that and more for you. And what did you do?
When he told me, I was silent. I felt like I had slammed head first into a wall, and I just sat there. I realized, in that moment, that I hated you. I had never liked you but in that moment it bubbled over into deep hatred.
And then I thought about it more. I tried to empathize. I thought of your first husband, who had died of cancer. I thought about how your son had lived through it twice. I thought about how you must have felt when your new husband got his diagnosis.
And then I hated myself. I know that for however long I live, I will never really forgive you. I can try, I can tell myself to be the bigger person, I can excuse you because of your self-absorption.
But no matter what I think of you, I will never be able to forgive myself.
My Dad never mentioned it to me until after you asked for the divorce. He never told me until it was too late for me to help, that during his nearly two-month recovery period, you visited only twice.
I will never forgive you for abandoning him when he needed you the most.
I will never forgive myself for not seeing it.
I
never trusted you. I never liked you. I always thought poorly of you, and during these years that I have known you, I always felt bad for not accepting you.
But now I am left feeling empty. Because deep down, I know I was right about you. When I first told my mother I thought you were a narcissist, I was afraid I was right. Now I am certain.
And so I beg you to prove me wrong.
The last words of yours that I have read, were written just before I was told about the divorce. I have not spoken with you since you wrote them. I've gone back to look at them quite frequently, the last thing you said.
"You are growing up so beautifully, [My Name]! I have loved watching you grow up from the funny sweet little boy to the young man with a great sense of humor, compassion for his fellow humans (and animals too!), and intellectual capabilities that are growing by leaps and bounds—faster that your height even :)"
You left my life with a sign-off that complimented me as a person. But I don't think I want you out just yet. I think there is room for me to leave a response.
I've read your words many times these past months, looking for some sign of goodness in you, something that will prove my thoughts wrong. Yet every time I read them, I think of things you have done that I cannot move past.
And so I say to you if you have even taken the time to read this:
Do not let my search for facts that disprove my thoughts have been in vain.
Prove me wrong.
Your ex-step-son
P.S.- I saw your Facebook messages just over a day after I finished this. I saw it was also sent to my sister. All I have read is what Facebook allows for me to preview, and that is all that I intend to read for now.
"Dear [My Sister's name] and [My name],"
Anything you wish to say to me can be said directly to me. That would make it more personal and make me think you put more thought into it. Maybe then I'd open the message.
P.P.S.- I read your text.
I guess I was right
