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Kate
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I don't know how to address this to you; I don't know what formalities to bestow.
You wouldn't know my writing, but if you saw me you would know my face. Upon meeting me, they know that I am her daughter. She says that you sent me a gift when I was born, but you never sent one for him.
I never questioned why I never saw you, or heard about you. Except when she was feeling sad, or worried, perhaps that she would die and that no one would ever tell us the story of what happened. I heard bits and pieces of what you did, and didn't do.
When I was little, I found the mini tapes of the court cases in the basement, but upon asking, no one explained why they were there. Later, I found the tape player broken.
When she got married, you were there. Did you see me play the piano while everyone walked in? Everyone complimented me on my dress and the song. Do you know what I am like? Did you read in the paper that I am a State champion in track, because I know you get that paper because you live in that town. Would you like to know how well I am doing in school, and that I might want to be a psychiatrist like you were? Would our accomplishments soften your hardened heart? Would you forgive and be forgiven?
Do you know how hard it must have been for her? How frustrating that they could not get the money that was due to them? Do you know that she does not regret anything? Do you know that your picture is in our house? Do you know that my brother played basketball games in the gym of where you once worked, where you once were so highly esteemed?
She tells me that when I was 6 I went with them to pick up her car, and that you were there and it broke their hearts that you did not attempt to acknowledge me, but I don't remember this. Once when I was 10 I looked up your name on the AOL profile, and I saw your screenname. I once imed you "hi". I am 16 now and your screen name is the same, but you took your last name off the profile. Was that so
little girls with my last name would not be able to communicate with you? I am almost the same age that she was before you left. Do you remember?
I wanted to write this for myself, to try to grasp just how she and they could forgive you after all you've done. Perhaps you'll want to see us one day, because I'd like to see you.
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020710
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