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Writer's pictureKathia Marie

Unspoken Words

I found your letter.

A year and two months after your absence.


I cried for hours.

Cradled by my bed, rocking on the carpet.


Every negative comment you made toward my intelligence, lack of motivation, and insufferable behavior melted into the fibers of that yellow, college ruled paper. Each smack to the backside of my head, every furious shove to the ground, evaporated with ease as I read about the painstaking love you had for the infancy that was me. Your written word hit every nerve harder than your fist hit the wall that night on November 15th when Mother pushed you over the edge before I could lose myself to sweet dreams. My dad loved me.

My. Dad. Loved. Me.

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