It was a Sunday morning and Jorge was at home getting ready to leave when he heard the doorbell ring. (Ding Dong!) He went to the door, opened it, and found a white envelope on the doormat. A little curious, given the day and time of delivery, he decided to open it. Inside the envelope, he found a folded white sheet of paper that looked like a letter. The title read: \u201cDad, it\u2019s your fault.\u201d For a few seconds, Jorge was completely paralyzed. He carried the guilt of not having been a present father to his older children. Jorge had always been a very free and pleasant person and, throughout his life, had many relationships. Of these, he had three children: Lu\u00eds, Pedro, and little Jasmim. The youngest was from his current marriage and still lived with him, as she was only eight years old. Lu\u00eds, his eldest son, had always been very clever and independent. Although they didn't talk much, he never had reason to worry about Lu\u00eds. Pedro, however, his middle son, he had no contact with, which always caused him great concern. However, after so many years of separation, Jorge was ashamed and afraid to look for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fearful and now even more curious because of the title, Jorge took a deep breath and went back inside. He sat on the living room sofa and began to read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad, it's your fault.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You know, Dad, I don't even know if I can call you that. You have no idea how deep your absence has hurt me. I've decided to give up on everything, and I think you need to know that. In my childhood, I would sit in front of our house watching the men who passed by on the street, hoping one of them would be you. I believed you would come back at any moment to live with us. As a child, I nurtured the dream that you would walk through the door to play soccer with me, like my friends did with their fathers. My mother doesn't know, but I stood at the door listening to her cry for many nights after you left. The day you left us, without giving me any explanation, I lost my mother and my father. Without you in the house, Mom had to work two jobs to keep the bills paid and prevent us from ending up living in the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, after losing one of those jobs, that's exactly what happened. Since I was still small, she pretended we were playing camping, but I saw her walking away from the car to cry. We were homeless for months until a friend Mom hadn't seen in many years found us in a supermarket parking lot. Mom even tried to hide, out of shame, but the woman realized what was happening and offered to help. She offered us a room in her house until Mom could rent a place for us. After that period, a little older, I started to wonder why you abandoned us. The only thing that came to mind at that time was that you didn't like me and that, when I was born, you decided to leave our home because you didn't want children. I started to blame myself, and that made me an increasingly introverted and reserved child. I remember praying to God that you would show up at school on Father's Day. I was very ashamed of not having a father at the Father's Day presentation. The friend who helped my mom used to go to church, and she said that if we asked God for something in Jesus' name, he would answer us, but God never listened to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During my adolescence, I grew to hate you with all my might. When anyone asked me about my father, I would say I didn't have one. I had spent my entire childhood witnessing the hardship my mother endured, alone, to ensure we lacked nothing, and this had left a wound that, over time, turned into bitterness. Furthermore, you never contacted us again, and even though I didn't want to admit it, I desperately wanted to have spent more time with you. I missed you terribly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the end of all this disappointment, only one promise remained: that I would never be to my children what you were to me, absent. I would never abandon my family as you did. When I turned twenty-one, I met a girl at work. I fell in love as soon as I saw her smile. She was beautiful and sweet, always worried about me and asking how I was every morning. With great difficulty, I mustered the courage and invited her for coffee. A year and two months later, we were married. It wasn't long before our first child was on the way. When he was two years old, my wife and I had a major disagreement. In fact, I don't even remember the real reason. I didn't know how to be a husband, as I had been raised without a father, and she had also grown up only with her mother. What had united us in the beginning now seemed to be the main problem: the absence of a father figure. Living together became increasingly difficult, and the demands gradually increased. I didn't know how to be a husband and father, and I was still too young and proud to admit it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When our son turned four, the year we would have celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary, after his birthday party, we had another major argument. Amidst insults and name-calling, I decided to leave home before things got worse. I grabbed some clothes, put them in a backpack, and walked out the door without knowing where to go. I remember my wife sitting on the living room sofa, with our son in her lap, crying with her head down. Since I had nowhere to go, I drove for hours until I reached the coast. Then, I stopped the car in front of the sea and got out. I sat on a large rock, looked at the sea, and thought about what I could do. What were my options? The only thing I could think about was that I wanted to disappear. Disappearing seemed to be the only option. I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't have the strength to endure it. I went back to the car, took paper and pen, and started writing one last note. Addressed to my mother and my wife. Why continue? I was tired of fighting without getting anywhere. I didn't have a father, I lived far from my mother, who only worked and was now losing my family. The woman of my life and my son. I was young, impulsive, and immature, but I didn't know how to be different. Leaving them in peace seemed to make sense at that moment. I don't know why, while I was sitting on that rock, I remembered my mother's friend. She always said that whatever we asked God in the name of Jesus, He would do. So, I started shouting loudly: \"God, get me out of here. Please, God, take me away from here, in the name of Jesus.\" At that exact moment, my cell phone, which was in my pocket, vibrated. It was a message from my wife that said: \"Don't abandon us. Come home.\"<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I read the message, my entire childhood flashed before my eyes in a second. I started crying desperately. I was overcome by a mixture of shame and guilt. That message made me realize that I was about to do to my son the same thing you had done to me. Abandon him. I always promised I wouldn't do that, but that's exactly what I was doing. After crying a lot, asking God for forgiveness and help, I got up from the rock determined to ask for help. The only person who came to mind was my mom's friend. When I told her what was happening, she prayed with me and introduced me to someone who helped me change my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, Dad, since the day I gave up on everything, I've been struggling to be a better father and husband, but to do that, I need to let go of the bitterness your absence left in my heart. Therefore, Dad, I need to say that I forgive you for not being present in my life. I forgive you for not being at school on any Father's Day. I forgive you for not helping me and my mother during difficult times. I forgive you for not calling me on my birthday. I forgive you for not being at my wedding. I forgive you for not being present at the birth of my son, your grandson. I forgive you for never asking me to be involved in my life. And I hope, with all my heart, that on the next Grandparents' Day, you will be at your grandson's school. I had to grow up far from my father, but I really want my son to grow up close to his grandfather. The fault is yours, Dad, but the forgiveness is mine, and I'm willing to offer it to you if you're willing to overcome what happened and move on. I still need you. Can you help me overcome this? Let's do it together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now please get up and open the front door again. I need to introduce you to your grandson, and I really want to give you a hug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n