Dear my not so heroic hero,
You never nor will you ever know knew this but I desperately wanted you to be my hero. I expected you to be my hero. To guide me through life with your infinite wisdom and insight to the world’s most compelling questions.
I wanted you to explain the many variations of running a blitz on a 2nd and 4 plays. Or why a point guard takes so long to pass the ball only to drive down the paint him or herself to make the score. From what I have been told, you were the athletic one in the family. That you played with Bill Walton before he was the great and legendary Bill Walton.
I grew up wondering, hoping and dreaming about your return. I woke up crying many nights pissed the hell off and saddened because I knew even at a young age that you would NEVER in my lifetime be that hero I deserved and needed to have.
Your excuses for being nonexistent in me and my brothers’ lives are ridiculous. The fact that you would try your best to put us against each other is beyond my comprehension. The fact that the youngest doesn’t even acknowledge the oldest and I as his family hurts more than you’ll ever understand. But what can we do? We didn’t grow up together or with the same mama. But yet you don’t take responsibility for having a part in that. Yes we’re all adults now but the encouragement to bond was needed when we were kids.
I’m not sure why I am even sending this letter because to be bluntly honest, at this point in my life, I don’t really care what you think, do or feel about anything. You will never be dead to me but you will not be a major factor in my life.
I do hope that one day we will reunite and you will see that the little girl you have so often viewed me as is not so little anymore. It is my hope that you will be clean and conscious of your words and past mistakes.
Until that time whenever that’ll be I have nothing else to say. Not now. Not ever.
Your unimpressed offspring,
The Southern Yankee