This is my first Father's day without one, and I didn't even realize the date until I read your piece just now. (I'm really busy caring for my mother.)

We finally stopped considering the many beatings I took with a leather belt as I was a tiny child, starting at 3 or 4 (or maybe even younger), with my god-like first born brother joyfully looking on. After all, what would have been the point in attempting resolution, since he would always explode in rage at "the injustice of his victimization."

I helped him die this past Christmas at 95, and so all the questions will forever remain unanswered. I even shed tears, and for longer than I ever expected. (Not sure exactly why.)

And I'll have to suppose that's all for the best. After all, he finally stopped hating and resenting me at some point, and even came to appreciate me toward the end. (But in the last year I once practically begged him to hug me, and he simply ignored my request.) In many ways he became a special person, caring even for total strangers more than he ever did me.

Thank you, Matthew. Please don't feel obligated to respond. I don't even know how you might, or if Imy guilt wants you to. I'm sorry your life has such a hole. I finally understand something about how that feels. Please, focus on you today, and please also accept my thanks as much as might be appropriate for you.