Repost: Holliday Letters Between a Father and his Son

Holliday Letters Between a Father and His Only Son

Letter #1 From Son to Father:

"Hi Dad,

Merry ChanuKwanzMas and Happy New Year! Your Dentist keeps sending me these Dental Reminders. I've emailed back telling him that you make all my appointments with him and they should be emailing you, but he keeps emailing me, so I thought I'd just forward it along so you can either schedule one for me or remind him to stop emailing me. Wishing you all the very best!

Love,

John jr."

Letter #1 From Father to Son:

"Just remove yourself from the e mails. You would not like a father who beat you your whole life to pay for your dental work, because then you could not play your academy award winning role of 'THE VICTUM'.

John Q. Doe"

Letter #2 from Son to Father:

"I wasn't asking for a father (and even if I was, it's a little late now; I'm all grown up), I was asking for an email removal or action regarding a Dentist that you were recently sending me to and paying for; Nothing more, nothing less. I apologize if you misunderstood.

I'm 31 now, Dad. Technically you only beat me for about 1/4 of my life, but that's in the distant past for me. I'm truly sorry that it is still very present for you. I love you very much despite your sadly ongoing mental war with me, despite our past, I can't help it (though sometimes I wish I could), blood is thicker than water.

But anyways, this was just about a simple email request, not your resentment towards me or what I view as ancient history. I hope one day you can view it as the same. I have asked to be removed, but I'll try again. Thanks for responding so fast and again Have a happy New Year!

John jr

P.S. Did it ever occur to you that YOU may be acting out 'THE VICTIM' (misspelled by you)? You are acting out the role of the poor father who did everything he could for his messed up lying kid who says that the poor victim father abused him, when really the father was wonderful. Poor, poor, father, to be stuck with such a bad child. Bad from birth. Nothing the son did was the Father's fault! The Father did everything he could, but the Boy was just born bad and always was mean to the Father?

You have given me some good advice over the years (and some bad advice), maybe you should turn your eye towards yourself one day?

P.P.S. Whether you believe it or not I FORGIVE YOU for the way you treated me as a child. You did the best that you knew how to do at the time and you provided for the family very well financially. Even if you never forgive me for whatever it is that is still sticking in your craw about me; I STILL FORGIVE YOU.

Letter #3 from Father to Son

"YOU are as crazy as your mother, your both idiots.

John Q. Doe"

Letter #3 from Son to Father

"Again, your grammar is a bit mistaken Dad. Your letter should read 'You're both idiots,' as in the contraction 'You are,' rather than 'your' which refers to possession.

My mother is a teacher and a published author who has won awards for her work. She definitely has her mental faults and she is definitely a little crazy, but she is no idiot. I love her, I'm very proud of her, and the fact that you, my father, think it's appropriate to speak to me about my mother that way shows the truth of your character and ability as a father; Ugly.

As for me I've been scoring as a Genius on every Academic test I have ever taken and though I may be a bit crazy (everyone is), I'm certainly not an idiot. If you were able to understand my published works you would see that. My readers are some of the smartest people in the world and their compliments mean a lot more than the resentful insults of my senior citizen father. Your opinion of me ceased to matter a long time ago, you might as well keep it to yourself.

I feel sorry for you that you can only communicate by means of insults, but I guess that's one of the reason's we don't communicate much. Despite your venom, I'm also proud of you and the work that you've done; Building yourself up from nothing and the legacy of buildings you will leave on the earth and the pages of Architectural Digest after you go (Until they are inevitably torn down). Goodbye for now Dad. I hope next time I hear from you, you are a little nicer.

On a side note: It's a very odd and ironic feeling for me to suddenly find that our situation is now reversed; For once I am the adult and you are the angry child. You once told me that people age like wine and from what I read, you sound like Sour Grapes. That's too bad. You can say all the mean things you want, it only reflects on your character, not mine, and certainly not my mother's. Those words are wasted on me; I don't even hear them any more.

But before you die, in the distant future, (since I don't anticipate your attitude changing before then, though I pray) I just wanted to make sure I set the record straight. That I forgive you. That I love you.
Goodbye.

Letter #4 from Father to Son

"The fact that you would respond to me proves that you are an idiot.

John Q. Doe"

Letter #4 from Son to Father

"Touche! And the fact that you write me back proves...?"

Poem: Another Holliday

Look at
All the Happy People,
going out for fun.
An evening spent
with friends and lovers,
at night on the run.
They watch the colors in the sky,
they dance, they drink, and laugh.
For this one night
of spending money,
caring not for math.

I watch them
from my little room,
my eyes through slitted blinds.
And no matter
where I look,
no reason
can I find.
What is the reason I'm alone,
while many bunch for joy?
What feelings beat,
inside their souls,
are lacking,
from this boy?

Their instincts tell them:
"Be together!"
"Dance beneath the sky!"
And as the crowds
keep passing me,
all I can say's
"Goodbye."

Will there
one day
be a group?
With me,
a one,
inside?
Or will I spend
the rest of life,
just me,
just one,
alive?

There was a time,
when I was young,
this was no sore for me.
But now I'm old,
the time has passed,
for this old man to be.

Another Holiday is passed,
while I am still alone.
No group,
no love,
no celebration,
no one on the phone.

Poem: Chistmas Eve '09

I'm an angry,
mean,
spiteful,
grumpy,
Old Man.

I despise my friend's
wife and child,
because I do not have any,
and probably never will.
I despise my friend for having them,
for being part
of a web of comfort,
that I have no part of.

I am a bitter,
envious,
Old Man.

Hating my friend
for traveling far and wide,
seeing sights
I had only dreamed of,
apparently only to dream.
I hate him so,
my skin tingles
on the top of my head.

I am a lonely,
and selfish,
Old Man.

Remembering all
the hearts I've broken,
yet still wanting
to break more.

I'm a devious,
atrocious,
Old Man.

Taking comfort in
my friends'
troubles and ills;
All the better to
"show them"
how much
I care.

I'm an old,
Old Man.
And I'm alone.

It's Christmas again.

And I'm actually 29.

Poem: Thanksgiving '09

It gets lonely down here sometimes.
When all your lovers want someone else,
or want you to be someone else.
When all your friends are too busy for you.
When you have no family,
and you never have,
but it's the season of families;
It's easy to feel left-out.

I never predicted,
how easy it is,
to be alone.
Never knew
how fast
it could come.

Complete and total.
Utter and infinite.

The World lives around me,
while for me time has stopped,
at the zero mark.

If you have a family,
give thanks.
If you have friends,
give thanks.
If you are not alone,
give thanks.

As for me,
I'll continue to write.