I have a box of letters from my father who passed away on September 22, 2003. He was in prison for a few crucial years of my childhood, & every day I would come home from school to find a letter in the mailbox from him. He never stopped writing. I've been told that his letters are the reason I am not totally fucked up. My dad was my favorite person in the world, & I would do absolutely anything to get him back, if just for a moment. My father wrote hundreds of letters to me, literally, hundreds. I wrote him back three or four times. It is the greatest regret of my life. I was convinced by someone else that he was the worst thing in my life, and not a dad, or a father. It has always been my theory that you can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a dad. I had been convinced that I did not have a dad. But, in truth, he was the only parent I really had. My mother was a joke & cared about nothing but herself. My dad on the other hand, cared about me like a parent should. He loved me & helped me survive some of the toughest times of my life. I didn't get to spend enough time with him before I lost him, but his letters help me keep him real, keep him here with me, & when things get tough, I know that I have a giant piece of him with me, always.
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