Maybe One Day

Bookmark League
Oct 28
8 min read

By Isa - Grade 11 I just really wish he was here right now, to teach me all the things I needed to know.

He could be here, present, available. But not without the disgust when his breath slightly lingers of alcohol. I wish I could give him mercy, I wish I could give him empathy because I know what he went through.

I know that he was struck by the same pain as I was. A parent with addiction and a need to flee.

But why did I have to bring on the same fate, why did I have to be the one to break his cycle. I could cry and beg but I would never get the same mercy. I could scream and shout but my voice will never be loud enough to compete with my fathers.

The empathy given to him was never given to me, because he was a broken man, he was a man with issues, he was grown, and he struggled with addiction.

And If I showed the same signs, I was overlooked because I wasn’t grown up enough, I was just born so I couldn’t be broken, and because I never turned over to addiction.

Because I was mentally stronger I never got the same treatment, I got treated as an adult when I talked about my mental health, saying I could push through, but as a kid whenever I broke down.

It was never fair, he always got the better treatment, because he was bipolar and he dealt with stuff his entire life. But my entire life was him, and he gave it all up because he could never step up to be a father.

And now I have to question if I’ll ever have someone to walk me down the aisle. I'll have to keep forever in my memories of my quince that I had to walk with a man who was never there and always took credit for being there. I’ll always have to be forced to look at him as a hero because he was treated worse than me.

But I was a kid who longed for a father who just loved her. Who didn’t love having strings attached, because of how many sports I did, because of who I was, because of my sexuality, because of who I dated, or even because of how feminine I was.

Now stuck with the guilt because my future kids will never meet their grandfather because he’ll be dead and buried with the one thing he loved the most, his one and only true wife and daughter.

The center of his life, alcohol.

My mother will be buried alone, never realizing that the empathy that she carried for him will never be rewarded. Because the thing that hurt him the most, the thing that tore our family apart and never let him be my father, was the thing he loved the most.

Maybe if I treated him worse when I was younger,

I would also be one of his addictions,

Maybe if I harmed his liver,

I would also be buried with him.

Maybe if I made him forget about his terrible family,

I could be his daughter.

But I could never do the same job as booze. I could never replace that for him.

I could watch a million videos of fathers recovering for their sons and daughters, I could catch myself staring too long at loving families and fathers having daddy daughter dates but it could never be me.

I could think back to the times where everything was less complicated, but it was always the same. I just understood less. I couldn’t understand why such a small, young child like me was having such big feelings.

A 4th grader that was looked at as someone with a temper, but was just a girl with feelings bigger than her body.

I wish he could teach me all the things I hear others learn about, even if it was something I hated. I would wanna go camp or even go fishing, I would dread every second of it but it meant to do it with a loving father I would go.

I would leave all the things I valued the most, I would sleep out in the woods and watch the stars. I would hate the smell, I wouldn’t be comfortable in the sleeping bags, I would complain. I wouldn’t know how to make my own fire or cook the fish.

But it would all be worth it, if I just got a chance to have a father that cared.

I could wish on the stars and constellations that you used to tell me about on the balcony for you to finally think of me as your star of redirection. I wish I could’ve been as useful as a star was to sailors.

I wish you could look up at me, and smile because you knew you were going the right direction.

I wish you went the right direction, and never got stuck in the waves that each storm brought.

Because I promise I could’ve been there for you, I would still shine even with the dark clouds and lighting in your way.

But you fell, without even glancing at me once.

I’ve wrote so many words about you that have never gotten to you.

Each one I think is goodbye.

But I feel like I relapsed

Each time I cry about you again.

I’ve given up on myself,

As much as you gave up on yourself,

But why did I be the only one,

Got back up?

You had amazing qualities, you were funny, witty, you loved to dance and tell me about your life.

It was so eventful, full of success, and failure. Full of things that made you human. You were one of the millions of reasons I stopped seeing failure as forever, but as growth.

Why I would always tell others I wanted my kids to think my life was a story book with a good ending, the ending you never got.

I resented that I was the same as you, even having the same flesh as you made me want to rip it out. Missing a father is a part of you that will sting forever, but it took me years to realize that he wasn’t completely gone.

Because I was the last thing that stood as a part of him, resenting it wouldn’t make it go away, resenting him wouldn’t make that connection I had with him go away.

You never gave up, until you did.

But whenever I want to give up, I want to let it all go, I think of the fact that you never once gave up, until it came to me.

Now, I would never give up when it came to me, even on tired endless days where I think I can’t keep going, I do. On runs where I think I may pass out here, I see your face buried in the grass, late at night, drunk and out of your mind.

You always challenged me by trying everything.

Things I was never good at, golf, tennis, soccer, drawing, and even you got me into writing. An outlet of frustration I never thought I’d have to do with you.

You always made me not afraid to be myself in a room full of people who follow the same set of rules.

But most of all, you taught me to be brave.

If I ever felt the nerves before a presentation? You’d tell me to imagine them as the goofiest animal I could think of and let my brain do the rest.

Whenever your voice sounded smooth and soft I loved it the most, because I wouldn’t hear the slurring in your words from the countless bottles you had downed.

I never thought I’d love all those qualities about myself, until I found myself reciting your voice during tests, hard days, and even race days.

I could be in any one of these settings, listening to your voice repeat in my head, telling me to never stop being brave, never stop being myself, and never give in.

But I had to be the one to finally tell myself to get up when I fell.

I can forgive you for everything you led me to do, give up on myself, fail, succeed, burn myself out, and even loath myself.

I can hate you for everything you led me to do,

Or I can thank you for it.

Years of throwing around my feelings,

one year I'd hate you,

one year I'd forgive you and hate you,

one year i’d let it all go, and then this year?

I’d thank you for it.

I thank you for making me brave,

I thank you for making me witty,

I thank you for making me myself,

I thank you for teaching me that part of yourself I never saw,

Because even though I can’t look at your face anymore?

I can look at mine,

And see the good parts of you that I missed.

As I think of it day to day, the confusion can still cloud me. I sometimes feel as lost as he was when he was a little boy. Should I forgive him? Should I try to make a connection or bring what we once had back? Or would it be all the same?

Till I figure it out, there are some things I have learned about myself because of him. I

like to run to trust in myself more, knowing that I’ll never quit on myself and push harder each time.

I like to debate! I like making my voice heard, and listening to others do the same.

I like to not only express myself with words, but with my style, often being extra with everything even if others are not.

I listen to my own voice more than others, hearing myself above the negative talk of others.

I don’t judge people for how life is at home or how they struggle.

And most of all?

I try hard on everything, even if I fail, I know I gave it my all.

Failure isn’t the end, giving up on yourself is.

I look at my father not with disdain anymore, but with empathy.

Even though I never got the same back, I know it was a quality I got from him.

Our relationship now? I’d like to keep it distant from strangers, it should pain me but I never lost him right?

Because he lives within me.

Even if he was never a decent or acceptable father,

I won't distest him for life,

but he won’t be a part of mine.

I know he’ll never think this much about me ever, how he feels about everything he’s done to me.

It’ll never constantly rotate in his head, hitting him back like the hangovers did.

It’ll never sting whenever he thinks about all the pain he caused, covering the scars he gave me with money instead of improvement.

The scars that others cause with their words never leave, but the only thing you can do is wear them proudly.

Carrying them with me with the pride my father never had for me.

So many things changed, and I was one of them.

Still as a teenager I don’t know where I’m gonna end up,

How me and him are gonna end up,

But all I know?

Is that crazy story I always wanted to tell my kids,

Will end with the happy ending,

That small kid always wanted.

Because I carry her legacy and pain on my sleeve,

I carry her motivation in my legs,

I carry her thoughts in my brain,

I carry her need to make it out in my heart.

Maybe, our two souls will collide again.

Maybe I’ll see your face on the news for writing that book you always wanted to write,

youth WRITERS

By Isa - Grade 11 I just really wish he was here right now, to teach me all the things I needed to know.

He could be here, present, available. But not without the disgust when his breath slightly lingers of alcohol. I wish I could give him mercy, I wish I could give him empathy because I know what he went through.

I know that he was struck by the same pain as I was. A parent with addiction and a need to flee.

But why did I have to bring on the same fate, why did I have to be the one to break his cycle. I could cry and beg but I would never get the same mercy. I could scream and shout but my voice will never be loud enough to compete with my fathers.

The empathy given to him was never given to me, because he was a broken man, he was a man with issues, he was grown, and he struggled with addiction.

And If I showed the same signs, I was overlooked because I wasn’t grown up enough, I was just born so I couldn’t be broken, and because I never turned over to addiction.

Because I was mentally stronger I never got the same treatment, I got treated as an adult when I talked about my mental health, saying I could push through, but as a kid whenever I broke down.

It was never fair, he always got the better treatment, because he was bipolar and he dealt with stuff his entire life. But my entire life was him, and he gave it all up because he could never step up to be a father.

But I was a kid who longed for a father who just loved her. Who didn’t love having strings attached, because of how many sports I did, because of who I was, because of my sexuality, because of who I dated, or even because of how feminine I was.

Now stuck with the guilt because my future kids will never meet their grandfather because he’ll be dead and buried with the one thing he loved the most, his one and only true wife and daughter.

The center of his life, alcohol.

My mother will be buried alone, never realizing that the empathy that she carried for him will never be rewarded. Because the thing that hurt him the most, the thing that tore our family apart and never let him be my father, was the thing he loved the most.

Maybe if I treated him worse when I was younger,

I would also be one of his addictions,

Maybe if I harmed his liver,

I would also be buried with him.

Maybe if I made him forget about his terrible family,

I could be his daughter.

But I could never do the same job as booze. I could never replace that for him.

I could watch a million videos of fathers recovering for their sons and daughters, I could catch myself staring too long at loving families and fathers having daddy daughter dates but it could never be me.

I could think back to the times where everything was less complicated, but it was always the same. I just understood less. I couldn’t understand why such a small, young child like me was having such big feelings.

A 4th grader that was looked at as someone with a temper, but was just a girl with feelings bigger than her body.

I wish he could teach me all the things I hear others learn about, even if it was something I hated. I would wanna go camp or even go fishing, I would dread every second of it but it meant to do it with a loving father I would go.

I would leave all the things I valued the most, I would sleep out in the woods and watch the stars. I would hate the smell, I wouldn’t be comfortable in the sleeping bags, I would complain. I wouldn’t know how to make my own fire or cook the fish.

But it would all be worth it, if I just got a chance to have a father that cared.

I could wish on the stars and constellations that you used to tell me about on the balcony for you to finally think of me as your star of redirection. I wish I could’ve been as useful as a star was to sailors.

I wish you could look up at me, and smile because you knew you were going the right direction.

I wish you went the right direction, and never got stuck in the waves that each storm brought.

Because I promise I could’ve been there for you, I would still shine even with the dark clouds and lighting in your way.

But you fell, without even glancing at me once.

I’ve wrote so many words about you that have never gotten to you.

Each one I think is goodbye.

But I feel like I relapsed

Each time I cry about you again.

I’ve given up on myself,

As much as you gave up on yourself,

But why did I be the only one,

Got back up?

You had amazing qualities, you were funny, witty, you loved to dance and tell me about your life.

It was so eventful, full of success, and failure. Full of things that made you human. You were one of the millions of reasons I stopped seeing failure as forever, but as growth.

Why I would always tell others I wanted my kids to think my life was a story book with a good ending, the ending you never got.

I resented that I was the same as you, even having the same flesh as you made me want to rip it out. Missing a father is a part of you that will sting forever, but it took me years to realize that he wasn’t completely gone.

Because I was the last thing that stood as a part of him, resenting it wouldn’t make it go away, resenting him wouldn’t make that connection I had with him go away.

You never gave up, until you did.

But whenever I want to give up, I want to let it all go, I think of the fact that you never once gave up, until it came to me.

Now, I would never give up when it came to me, even on tired endless days where I think I can’t keep going, I do. On runs where I think I may pass out here, I see your face buried in the grass, late at night, drunk and out of your mind.

You always challenged me by trying everything.

Things I was never good at, golf, tennis, soccer, drawing, and even you got me into writing. An outlet of frustration I never thought I’d have to do with you.

You always made me not afraid to be myself in a room full of people who follow the same set of rules.

But most of all, you taught me to be brave.

If I ever felt the nerves before a presentation? You’d tell me to imagine them as the goofiest animal I could think of and let my brain do the rest.

Whenever your voice sounded smooth and soft I loved it the most, because I wouldn’t hear the slurring in your words from the countless bottles you had downed.

I never thought I’d love all those qualities about myself, until I found myself reciting your voice during tests, hard days, and even race days.

I could be in any one of these settings, listening to your voice repeat in my head, telling me to never stop being brave, never stop being myself, and never give in.

But I had to be the one to finally tell myself to get up when I fell.

I can forgive you for everything you led me to do, give up on myself, fail, succeed, burn myself out, and even loath myself.

I can hate you for everything you led me to do,

Or I can thank you for it.

Years of throwing around my feelings,

one year I'd hate you,

one year I'd forgive you and hate you,

one year i’d let it all go, and then this year?

I’d thank you for it.

I thank you for making me brave,

I thank you for making me witty,

I thank you for making me myself,

I thank you for teaching me that part of yourself I never saw,

Because even though I can’t look at your face anymore?

I can look at mine,

And see the good parts of you that I missed.

As I think of it day to day, the confusion can still cloud me. I sometimes feel as lost as he was when he was a little boy. Should I forgive him? Should I try to make a connection or bring what we once had back? Or would it be all the same?

Till I figure it out, there are some things I have learned about myself because of him. I

like to run to trust in myself more, knowing that I’ll never quit on myself and push harder each time.

I like to debate! I like making my voice heard, and listening to others do the same.

I like to not only express myself with words, but with my style, often being extra with everything even if others are not.

I listen to my own voice more than others, hearing myself above the negative talk of others.

I don’t judge people for how life is at home or how they struggle.

And most of all?

I try hard on everything, even if I fail, I know I gave it my all.