Yesterday I shared the first letter I wrote, some eight months before this one. I wrote this letter as an attempt to explore where my own thoughts and beliefs in God (did you pick up on that yesterday?) had taken me.
CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY
I had to write you again.
It has been eight months since I wrote you that letter. You still haven’t replied. I don’t know what I was expecting.
Yes I do.
I was expecting you to respond somehow. I thought maybe you would pull whatever strings it is you pull to turn my life upside down and try and get my attention once more. I thought maybe you’d start getting in touch with all of the people I love and pressuring them to pressure me to bring you back into my life. But I got none of that.
I swore in that letter that you wouldn’t exist to me anymore, yet I still find myself defending you in the most random of situations. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why.
I made friends with someone who told me you’ve never been there at all. He told me that you are just some person the people in my life invented. He found the very idea of you to be absurd. And I defended you.
“Have you ever actually seen this dad of yours?” he asked. I told him no. And it’s true. I’ve never seen you, ever. No pictures. Nothing.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Your entire life people told you that you have a dad and that he loves you and is there for you. You’ve never seen Him. Is that right?” I told him he was right.
“So tell me this,” he said. “Have they ever seen this dad of yours? All these people in your life that have always told you so many things about him.” Well, no. And I told him so. And then I responded further and defended you and your existence. Why, I don’t know.
I got annoyed. You are, after all, my dad. If I want to believe you are actually a part of my life, and if I want to believe you actually care about me, that’s none of this guy’s business. Conversely, if I want to set boundaries and keep any part of you, or idea of you, from entering my life again, that’s none of his business.
But more than anything, I cannot stand people who take one extreme and trade it for another. I will never understand people who can’t believe in a possibility existing that differs from their own. I will never understand people who can’t simply believe in something, and at the same time admit that something else just might be true. That’s what this new friend of mine was doing (or not doing). He had his ideas of what had happened between you and me, and he wasn’t going to be convinced otherwise. So I defended you. Or I should say, I defended your existence. And I did it simply because I knew he was just as wrong and just as right as those who will swear up and down to you actually being there.