I've been putting this one off for probably almost a year. Never felt right, but I need to show this to you - all of it. That previous letter, I was never planning for you to read it, so it was easy to write. Now I feel like I should measure my words. Because now I know you'll read it.

But to be honest, I'm not really sure you'll understand. Have we ever had a real conversation? So I really don't know how much you're capable of understanding, emotionally I mean. And I'm sorry about that, I really am.

I wish I had written you something after you apologized. Gosh, hearing you say that was like every single thing had been validated, everything I felt. It was almost magical. You never apologized before, so I felt like you thought you did nothing wrong.

Over the past few years, a realization has slowly dawned on me, one I just didn't consider before. You're a good person, you really are. In your professional life, everyone loves you. You're thoughtful and smart and you care about other people.

But did that apply to us? Because you are a good person, but you were not a good husband or father.

All the times I hated you. All the times I hated you fill me with so much anger. I want to be rid of my anger. It's suffocating.

I can't remember how long I've been wanting to tell you. Wanting to tell you how much you've hurt me by your actions and especially your inactions. But it never felt like a good time. I wanted to lay this out for you before I moved out, when we were still together, so that you could read it and I could see you in person. I started this letter so many times, so many first lines, but none of them stuck.

Even now none of it really feels quite right. But I can't keep putting it off.

The title for this one - and it's gone through many title changes - is from a song by Witt Lowry. It's a song, a letter, he wrote to his father after his father died. But you, you're still here. I have no idea what I would do if you were to die and I still was so unsettled. Where would it go? The discomfort, the anger.

The title is also a practical one: I hope this is the final installment of writing my grievances out for you.

You need to be better. Can you be? I don't think Lina minds, but Sarah does. You're hurting Sarah, you have hurt Sarah. It's not too late for her. Love her better than you loved me.

Mom too. Do you even understand how much you've hurt her? Seeing how much you just didn't seem to care, that really hurt me as a kid, it confused me. Love her better. Talk to her. You weren't there for her when we were young, you can be there for her now.

You're getting better, you're getting so much better and I am incredibly thankful for your progress toward happiness. Have you ever been happy before? I know you can be. You can be happy. That would be so wonderful.

Even after everything, you can be happy. You deserve to be happy, Dad.

There's much more I could say, I could lay every single thing out, but to be honest I don't really want to dredge through my memory and find every instance.

I don't know if you'll understand, Dad, but this is it.

I'm doing this for myself, because it's been ten years and I still find myself hating you sometimes, and for us, because I don't want to hate you anymore.

I love you,

Annice.

12-1-24