Dear Dad,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I'd say I've just been busy, but I don't want to lie to you. Lying to you, has never been my strong suit anyway. You always knew.

I don't really know where I've been. And I can't really tell you where I'm going. Guess I'll work the details out when I get there. But for right now.. I'm here.

I have so many things I want to say. But somehow the words stick inside, and I can't seem to shake them out onto paper, but I'll do the best that I can. I don't really know how to say this exactly, but I miss you.

I miss the talks we use to have, before I left home. The way you always had of pulling the truth from me. You were always so short, when you spoke. Each word carefully punctuated. It made talking to you hard. Made reaching you .. not worth the effort.

But I made it anyway, didn't I? Maybe it's because I wanted you to look at me, and really see me. Maybe it's because I wanted for you to love me. Middle child, that wasn't yours.

Wanted to be your friend. Wanted to be .. your daughter. I miss those talks, because they're the only good memories I have of you. The only kindness you gave me. The only wisdom you passed down.

Watching mom struggle to raise us right, while you seemed bent on raising us wrong, was just how it was. Said you were an idiot, said you were dumb. But you weren't. You taught me so much about life, and luck inside that dusty, pickup truck. Rattling down the highway, faster then the limit, slower then the crowd, country music blaring from your stero. Cigarette butts falling to the floor.

I miss you daddy. The summer heat brings it all back. The years you were mean, little more then a drunk. The years you were shaky, and tempramental, up all night on uppers, down all day on downwers. Your eyes glowed so brightly. You were crazy. You were genuis. You were my dad.

A year ago now, since I've known you would die. A year since you told me, you were gonna die from what you had. And not to cry, not to greive, and make it about me. Cause it was about you. It's been a year since then.

You don't return my phone calls, you no longer have email. So here I am, at 2 am, writing this letter, you might not open. They say you're an addict again. They say it like they're not surprised. But I am.

Cause daddy? I miss you.

Love,
Chrissy