A letter to my father

Hey father,

I know we haven't talked for 2 years now, but there's an entire bag of reasons why. Reasons both of us are too egoistic to talk about and confront. You've led me in my life in many ways as a father should but also treated me in countless ways like no one should have. You preferred we called you God and you loved to command us as your peasants. You thought money can buy everything, that money is what gives you the power to subordinate family members, that money gives you a right to silence other's people opinions, that money is everything life is about. From a young age, I and my sister lived in this giant mansion, whose 3/4 of it was never used but that was not the problem. The problem was that you were never there, you always left early in the morning and came back late in the night, day in and day out for 20 years straight. But we got used to that, daddy has to work. But the saddest part is when you had the time for us you were always too tired of work and ill-tempered to show us any love. You thought bringing the food to the table was your duty, while you never brought food to our hearts. I'm pouring myself out here, but it would be interesting to be in this position if I had no father, because I don't think it would make any difference. Because to me, it's questionable: whether it's better to have a father that abuses you or none at all. It's sad that only the people around you saw how money corrupted you, but never yourself. You saw greatness in that... we kids weren't even in your field of view. Some say money brings you happiness, but everything I prayed for as a kid was a little smile from you. There were some neutral times when life just went on, but there were also times when you repurposed our family into a company and threatened to fire us. I never understood why my older brothers left the house so early and never came back. I think I do now and I've left three sisters behind me. I guess that makes me a coward, but I rather live in the shadows than under a feeling that I only exist in this world because of you. You had various techniques to bring me down, from knocking on my head when I tried to focus, to making me polish a complete mansion that you intentionally messed up just for me, to waking up to insulting notes each morning, ignoring the things I performed well in. I still keep the notes, to remember from time to time why I'm here, why the family is broken and that there's no way back. These things hurt, and they still do today but I got on with it, but will my kids too? How am I supposed to explain to them who is their grandpa? Should I lie? should I tell them the truth?

At the same time, that does make me question myself, since the relation you had with us had to source from somewhere. Was my grandpa the same as you? Were you treated the same way and that's how upbringing should run in our family?

I'm still completely lost whether I should be grateful for you to make me tough as I am today, or be angry at you to cause me permanent trauma and insecurity. In any case, I know what kind of father I shouldn't be.

Your youngest boy