Dear Pa,

I almost feel guilty writing this to you. I have always played around with the idea of telling you how I feel but have changed my mind, for fear that I may be out of line. I wish I could go back into your childhood and understand why you are the person you have become – emotionally distant, a dogged hardworker and awfully abrasive. With the exception of the emotional piece, I see myself in you.

Those similarities are what drive me insane. As a child, I wanted to be near you at all costs. I wanted you to be around me and enjoy my company. I saw our physical similarities – the eyes and the nose-- and as a trivial youngster thought that was enough to make a connection. Even when we tried the whole “normal family living gig” I was struck by the similarities in our impatient attitudes and way we dismiss people – with our hands.

Or maybe, I took on those mannerisms just to be like you – craving the attention I never received. I would love when you came around – even if it only meant you threw a few 20’s at mom and called it “child support”. Yeah right. You owe that woman more money than you have ever made. You owe her your complete gratitude and appreciation for raising a child that you barely wanted with such selflessness and commitment.

The real reason for this letter is to ask why you have never said I love you. Just three simple words- not simple but hopefully honest. I mean, I cannot imagine how hard it may have been to grow up without your mother around –craving attention from your grandmother who probably had just enough energy to put food on the table and protect you from being a victim of the rampant poverty in central region of DR. Maybe your mom or your dad never told you they loved you.

I wonder if it is because your plan never included having children – seeing them as a distraction towards your rampant conquest of any Dominican woman dumb enough to fall for your crap. Maybe. I do not have a fucking clue why you would not love me. Well, maybe because I do not call you enough or seem to care about you. Or because I seem to only respond when you buy me something – the car I drive and so much more. Forgive me but it was the sole way you seemed to ever show me that you cared as I grew up– with your wallet.

I have tried to do it all to make you love me more – not becoming a statistic, going to an Ivy, not becoming a teen mom, not cursing in your presence, going to church, working in a well respected profession, and even losing weight. Yup, even that. In the back of my mind for the past years, I wondered if you did not love me but I was not thin enough. But, to date, you have not even mentioned anything about my weightloss – positive or negative.

I am rambling at this point, but my question is simple. I know that you are proud of me. I think that you have at least said that before. Well not directly to me as that has never been your style. But your friends and some of the family has mentioned it in conversation. As you get older and the everpresent reality that your tenure on Earth is coming to , as your only child – your daughter – I just need to hear you say it.

-MG