Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

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Dad
It’s been awhile. “Tired of waiting for your call … don’t bother calling me back … ever again.” Those were the last words that I heard you say in the voicemail you left me… approximately three years ago. I did, however, call you back immediately. 3 times as a matter of fact. Twice before I played your voicemail right after I missed your call. Once more after I listened and couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I called you twice more in the following days. No answer. Apparently I had hurt you so bad by not calling you back sooner that you needed to cut off all contact forever (?) During that time I had a shit storm happening in my life … you may remember; separation moving towards divorce, fucking insane spouse, job I hated, etc. That voicemail was just one more thing on my shit sandwich platter.
I want to tell you about that day from my perspective. I was out the night before with Amanda. In those days I was waking up at 5 AM when I stayed at her apartment, driving home and crashing again in my basement until the kids woke up. You called probably around 8 or so and kinda/sorta woke me up but I was still virtually asleep. I heard your voicemail … something about “having the answer to my dreams” when I did get up. I called you back around 1 PM, no answer. I had no option to leave a voicemail. The phone just rang and rang maybe a dozen times before I hung up. An hour later I left to go to the Phillies game with the kids, Steve, my step-father Rick and Amanda. It was a 4 o’clock game and I was driving. At the top of the second inning you called again and asked me “Where the hell are ya?”. I told you and that I could also not hear you very well. You asked when I would be home. I guesstimated around 8 or so. You a...


... middle of paper ...


... my father and I love you. The kids miss you. Amanda would like to meet you.
I’ve been intending on sending you this letter for some time. I started writing it over a year ago. Feel free to burn it or wipe your ass with it or whatever. But before you do I would like to thank you. Thank you for listening to me vent nearly every day for those first few months when I separated from Dana and was trying to not go insane from her nonsense (shit, years of her bullshit too). Thank you for all of your advice. Thank you for the money that you have gifted to me. Thank you for your stories. Thank you for the stickers that you would send the kids. Thank you for the kids’ magazine subscriptions. Thank you for opening your home to us over the years. Thank you for all that you have taught me, both good and bad. And thank you for reading this letter.
Your son,



David

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