We didn't deserve that. To be treated like that. We were a family. Notice the 'were'. You're the one that left us. You packed your bags and never came back.
You could have at least said goodbye in your note. The note on the fridge with that tiny magnet from our family vacation to Disney World.
A father is supposed to nurture his children, teach them. We were supposed to be able to look up to you, Matt and me. We could have had everything, we could have been a family, all of us, you me, Ma, Matty.
But now, because of you, we're broken. We're not perfect, not like I ever thought we could be.
I know you're probably some place halfway across the country now. Maybe you even got married again, maybe you even have children. If you do, I hope you're a father to them. I hope you taught them how to ride a bike, or throw a baseball.
Maybe they'll grow up, and go to college. Then graduate. Maybe they already did.
It's been twenty-seven years today since you left. Since you started a new life.
I graduated, I graduated Yale. Are you proud of me? Matty? He served in the Army for six months three years ago. He's dead, you know. Killed by one of his own men. It was an accident, but he's still gone. What about that son of yours? Huh? What about Matty?
I hope you know that I sent you this letter because I wanted to tell you how I feel. After all of these years. Do you even remember me? Alexa, your daughter.
Did you know that I forgive you?
Did you know what could have happened. What could have become of us? But the fact is, we ended up okay. Even Matty, although he's dead, he was a good man. He was. I miss him, like I could have missed you someday.
You know, love doesn't just go away. I think I'll always be mad at you, but I also love you. I always will. And I forgive you.
P.S.-You don't have to write back.