The Letter

The following is the letter that I will post to my stepson.  Needless to say, I am sad and hurt beyond words.  And if this letter sounds harsh, let me reassure you, it was way worse before I got calm and edited it!

It was nice to see you for those few hours you were with us over Christmas day.  It meant so much to your Dad to have (almost – except for N'l) the whole family together.  We all know that there isn’t much hope that Grandma will be with us next year, so we were very happy to get Uncle R and Tia A up, along with you and J and D to spend time celebrating family.

But I have to tell you, not as your stepmother, but as the wife of your Dad, that I am gravely disappointed in you.  Disappointed and angry.  Disappointed because you let your Dad down.  And angry because you hurt the person I love the most in the world.

And deeply saddened because it was not intentional, just selfish and thoughtless.

Your Dad loves you J'y.  He loves you very much.  And he has sacrificed much for you.  He gave up his job at Domino’s, where he was making great money and had a lot of perks and power and privilege so that he could have his weekends off to spend them with you.  When you started to school your Dad realized that his required work over the weekends would mean he barely would see you.  And that wasn’t acceptable to him.  So he quit his job and went back to school to learn a whole new trade for a whole new career simply to ensure he had his weekends off and would be available for you.

Your Dad loves you so much that he went to court to fight to give you your last name.  And he fought for custody of you, knowing of your mother’s history of alcoholism and other poor choices.  He wanted you to have a stable home.  And he wanted to shield you from the difficulties of living with an alcoholic parent.  Sadly, while he won the right to give you his name, he lost the right to raise you.

Your Dad loves you so much that we have made three trips to Klamath Falls to see you since you moved down there.  And we have worried about it only being three trips, and not more.  Your Dad, a frugal man as you well know, never hesitated to spend over $300 each trip to drive down there, get a hotel room, and take you and J'n to meals with us, because he loves you and misses you.  No matter that he had to stay up late into the night on Sunday night after we got home to grade papers and prepare for Monday morning – he got to see his son for a few days, so it was worth the time, the money, the effort, and the loss of sleep.

Since I have known him, your Dad’s number one priority has been you:  your health, your safety, your success, your happiness.  He was by your side every night that you spent in the hospital.  He drove literally hundreds of miles each month to pick you up from your mom’s homes to bring you to ours.  He always made certain that he attended every parent-teacher conference, every performance, every game.  He thought of ways to entertain you, taking you to Yellowstone and Yosemite, taking you camping and hiking and skiing, playing Hungry Hungry Hippo and Looping Louis, making blanket forts and igloos with you, building Legos and reading books.  While your Dad may not have spent as much money on you as your mother did, he gave you the gift of his time, his undivided attention, and all of his focus and energy not only when you were together, but while you were gone, as he planned for the next time he got to see you.

Your Dad tried to teach you the qualities and characteristics of a good man, not by overtly preaching to you, but by example and by gently guiding you.  (I think you have received only one spanking at his hands, and I have never heard him raise his voice to you or send you to your room for a time-out.)  And I can safely say that you owe your work ethic, your academic success, and your strength of character to your Dad, because they are a mirror image of him.  And while it may be your sunny personality and outgoing friendliness that attracts people to you to begin with, it is your basic goodness and decency, your stability, and your trustworthiness that keeps them by you.  Ask J'n.  I bet she says she loves you for your determination and steadfastness and perseverance.  All traits you learned from your Dad.

Your Dad was so proud of you when you graduated from high school.  And he was so proud to take you to college.  He is so proud of you for sticking with your job, even though it must be frustrating at times, when your dreams and aspirations are so much greater.  He sees the young man that you are becoming, and he is pleased and happy for you.

And that is why he was so deeply hurt by your behavior this weekend.  He knew ahead of time that you would get sucked into spending most of your time with your mom and her other kids.  He even commented that he figures that is how it will be for years to come – before you even got up here.  But he was still hoping for more than 10 hours of time with you.  (that’s all you gave your Dad you know – 10 hours of time that you were awake)  Your Dad spent all day on Monday hoping that you would call or come over, but you chose to spend it with others.  And your phone message last night and subsequent failure to call back as promised was a slap in the face.

Your Dad is nearly heart-broken J'y.  To be treated so casually by someone on whom you have lavished so much love is painful beyond words.  And for me to have to stand by and watch it happen is infuriating.

And so I say to you what your Dad will never say:  J', it is time to grow up. 

As a child of divorced parents I know how difficult it is to have to split your time between two sets of parents.  Throw in friends you want to visit, and it makes it even harder.  Been there, done that.  You know as well as I do that all you have to do is make a few sacrifices on your part. 

Sure your mom buys you large and lavish gifts.  (Guilt will make you do that - by your own admission, she has never bothered to visit you since you moved to Klamath Falls.  And while I went to more parent-teacher conferences than she did and she made few to none of your soccer games or lacrosse games or basketball games, she did buy you an x-box, got you a cell phone, took you shopping at American Eagle.)  Remember, she is just as capable of driving down to see you as we are, and her trips to Eugene could have been extended those few extra hours to see you.  Her choice not to see you, not yours, and certainly not ours.

Last night when we got home and found no promised second message from you, your Dad sadly said “I wonder if I have a son anymore.  Maybe he would rather we don’t intrude on his life.”  He went on to comment on the fact that N'l calls and texts and emails me regularly, but he only hears from you when you want something from us.  And all I could do was sit there and remind him that you are still very young, that you have time to mature and realize the value and importance of your Dad, and I hoped out loud that you will come to your senses and realize how much you need your Dad.

So J'y, as the wife of your Dad, and the woman who helped to raise you and who loves you as my own son, but who loves your Dad even more, I am telling you that you need to think about what I have said.  Yes, parts of it weren’t very nice to read.  But it is the truth.  There are things I have written that, although true and accurate, your Dad will never say to you because he will never say an unkind word about your mom to you – a courtesy he extends to you so that you don’t have to feel torn between your parents.

J'y, you owe your Dad an apology.  And you owe your Dad some sign of respect and attention and love.  This has been a hard year for him – Grandma and Grandpa and work have all proven extremely worrisome and frightening.  Don’t you make it even worse by continuing to turn you back on your Dad like you did this week.  Don’t make this good man who has only ever acted on your behalf, think that it was all for nothing. 

Don’t ever let me hear your Dad wonder if he has a son anymore.

I love you, J'y.  Remember that.  But most of all, remember that your Dad loves you.