>I’ve gotten some really nice feedback from unexpected sources regarding the newly launched Love, Daddy. I haven’t even written much for the site and already it’s getting linked to by other blogs as far as Europe and Canada. Weird and exciting and scary all at once. Scary because this is unchartered emotional territory I’m entering here. My dad has never acknowledged that:
(a) He tried to kill my mom in front of me,
(b) I had to stop it and “read” him his rights (in sign language),
(c) He ruined* my life, and
(d) Never even apologized to me, let alone my mom.
Yet, it will still come as a shock to him that I don’t believe his story that:
(a) He never assaulted my mom all those years ago, he “just punched holes in the wall. Only five,” and
(b) He wasn’t trying to kill his last wife, he was trying to stop her from killing herself.
Wracked with guilt after seeing the movie (see my detailed entry), I did what Capote could not do: come clean. I sent my dad a letter clearly spelling out that:
(a) I was going to tell the story from my point of view,
(b) He might not agree with it,
(c) He should feel free to participate a lot or not at all or anywhere in between, and
(d) I love him no matter what. I haven’t disowned him thus far, why the hell would I now?
*My life is obviously not ruined. I quite like what I’ve done with it, in fact. But, tell that to my 16 year old self who then could no longer imagine going to college despite summa cum laude honors, went into hiding and slept in fear.