*This letter contains references to domestic abuse, childhood trauma, and parental regret. Please read with care, especially if you are a survivor or supporter.

Dear Boys,

I need to say something I’ve never had the courage to say out loud, not because it isn’t true, but because the truth burns when I try to hold it. I failed you. I didn’t protect you the way I should have. And I can’t fix that. I can’t go back and undo the nights you cried yourselves to sleep, the fear you swallowed when the shouting started, the bruises, seen and unseen, that never belonged on your skin. She hurt you. She hurt all of us. And I stood there, too stunned, too afraid, too wrapped in excuses and survival to pull you out of it.

You deserved safety. You deserved peace. You deserved to grow up believing love wasn’t something you had to earn, something you had to dodge, something that held conditions on you. I should’ve left sooner. I should’ve screamed louder. I should’ve stood between you and the worst of her. But I didn’t. And that’s on me. That’s the weight I carry, the shadow that follows me into every quiet moment.

Sometimes I watch you when you’re not looking. The way you flinch when someone raises their voice. The way you ask, “Are you mad?” when you’ve done nothing wrong. And it kills me, because I know where you learned that. I know who you learned it from. And I let it happen.

The truth is, I wanted to help her. I believed that if I just tried hard enough, if I loved her enough, if I stayed calm enough, if I absorbed enough of her anger, something would change. I wanted to believe the person I saw in the good moments was real. I wanted you to have a whole family. I wanted to save her from herself. But everything I tried didn’t work. Nothing I did was enough to stop the harm, and by the time I accepted that, you had already suffered too much.

I’m trying to be better. Not just for you, but because of you. You are the reason I believe in redemption. You are the reason I keep showing up, even on the days I feel like a ghost of the father I meant to be. I’m learning how to parent myself too, how to unlearn the fear, how to sit with the guilt, how to show you love that doesn’t come with conditions or apologies.

I don’t expect forgiveness. I just hope one day you’ll understand that I loved you even when I was silent. That I love you more fiercely now because I know what it means to be without it. You are not broken. You are not ruined. You are not her.

And despite everything, I want you to know this: every moment with you is worth it. Every laugh, every bedtime story, every smile you give me. it’s everything. It’s why I keep going. I love you more than words have ever known how to say. You are my greatest joy, my greatest reason, and I will never stop trying to deserve you.

And I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life proving that love doesn’t hurt.

—Dad

The End of Reclamation.

Start The Next Section Settled:

The Wreckage