what's the thing you'd say to your dad if he was here?
maybe he's gone. maybe he's alive but the distance between you is the kind that can't be crossed with a phone call. either way, there's something sitting in you that was always meant for him.
every day there's one live question, the same for everyone. answer it anonymously, see what other people said. it's all gone in seven days.
answer today's question →write it as a letter if that helps. or just write the one sentence. the thing you'd say if he walked in right now and sat down and, for once, was ready to hear it. it might be angry. it might be tender. it might be both in the same breath. don't edit it for his comfort. he's not reading this. write what you needed him to know, or what you needed him to say, or what you wish he'd done differently. if what comes out is "i miss you" or "i'm angry" or "why didn't you," that's enough. you don't need to finish the thought neatly. just get it onto the page.
- write the sentence you've rehearsed in your head but never said out loud.
- describe one specific moment you wish had gone differently between you.
- write about what you needed from him that you've since tried to give yourself.
this is for anyone with a complicated space where their dad is or was. especially if you've been carrying something unsaid for a long time and it's getting heavy.