Reciprocate

The keeper

I love you son. You are everything, and anything I have wanted. I am sorry that I left. I couldn't be at home anymore. My heart still aches that I left when you were still holding my hand, you were 7 and too young to understand. I could have come to see you any time, but I refused. But never did I spend a single day not thinking about you, I have supported you through everything, watched you more closely than you can ever imagine. But I couldn't bring myself to face you. At 13 you were bright, topper of your class, your mother raised you well. I just could never bring myself to love her again, I could not stand to be in the same room as her. I am sorry. It was never about you. 

At 18, I thought that it was time, should I meet you, tell you how I know everything about you- How you have got into one of the best colleges, how proud I am of you. Should I? But I am a coward, son. I am the biggest coward anyone could ever imagine. Your hand wrapped around my finger still haunts me, because I wrenched it away from you, and I know you didn't understand. I know you hate me, but I wish you didn't. 

At 23, it's a good age, you're working now, doing so well for yourself, you have so much potential to become someone great. I have so much faith in you. I don't know if you remember this, but you had held my stethoscope in your hand one day and had told me you wanted to be a doctor like me. I had had tears in my eyes. You are my prince, and like a fool I abandoned you. Is it too late now, son? Is it too late? 

The forsaken

Why is there always rain at times like this? It's a cliché, too much of a cliché. You left me, I remember clearly to this day how you left. There was rain that day too. A cliché. It's always a cliché. I cried, like any 7 year old would when they know someone is leaving angrily. But like any child I had hope from the moment you left me. Every day I stood at my window hoping against hope that you would come back. To this day, I hate rainy days. At 13, I started to lose hope, I thought I would be the best, and that would make you come back to me. But you never cared enough. The world revolved around you, it had always been about you.

At 18, I thought that it is time, I should find you, I should meet you, shout at you, hit you, anything to destroy the hope that somehow grew over the years. Should I? But I was a coward, dad. I was the biggest coward anyone could ever imagine. My hand wrapped around your finger still haunts me, because you wrenched it away from me, and I never understood. But at 18, I began to hate you.

At 23, it's a good age, I am working now, financially independent and I have so much potential to become someone great, no thanks to you. I remember the time I had held your stethoscope in my hand and had told you that I had wanted to be a doctor like you, but you killed that dream the day you left me. I never wanted to be anything like you.  I can't even have tears in my eyes anymore. You were my hero and you abandoned me.

Now I'm standing at your funeral with this letter you wrote to me, but I can't bring myself to read it, it's too late now, dad. It's too late.