Dear Father,

It’s quiet out here. The country noises are there. But they’re quiet. It’s peaceful
and I should be playing my guitar. Instead, here I am, writing a letter to someone
I barely know. I hadn’t thought about you in a long while, I’ll be honest. Today
something strange happened though. I met a woman whose father had left her
and her family thirty years ago. He had just recently called her.
For the first time in thirty years.

Her father’s name was William Carl Pilter.

I told her my story. Our story.
I told her your name was also William Carl.
So now your back on my mind.

By the way, I’m sending this letter sign on delivery so that I get a receipt when
you sign. I’ll know you got it. Even if you don’t answer back.

Thing is. I’m not sure I want you to write back. I’m not sure what I want. I’m
not looking for a father. Or for money. Or love or recognition. I guess I feel I
should remind you I’m alive. That your parents are alive. That they miss you and
they love you. Your father told me so. He works at Publix now. We aren’t close.

I’m moving back to Orlando soon. Very soon. Then I’ll be moving to Colorado.
I’ll be gone. Out of Florida and on to something new.

Maybe I’m writing this because I’m leaving. Because I may not come back.
Because this may be your last chance. To say goodbye.

I know how you must think I think of you. But I have no grudge anymore. I’ve
been through too much heartbreak to pretend I don’t understand why you did
what you did.

I know the consequences of acting out of passion rather than reason. I know what
it’s like to push the ones you love away. To feel as if you’ve failed. As if there is
nothing more worth living for. As if there was no love left in the world.

I know Butch. I know how hard it is not to let the memories sting you. To let
guilt make you feel heavy and hollow. I know how it is to feel too tired to try
anymore. Too drained to smile.

I also know that you did only what you knew to do. I know you tried being a
loving husband. I know you tried being a loving father. I know you always
sought the only way you knew.

Some rock stars become famous for their passion. The rest die out before they’re
ever discovered.
But I can’t blame you for it. I wouldn’t be who I am today if you hadn’t done
what you did then. In a way you should be proud of your, if not unintentional,
actions, which have led me to be the man I am today.

I hear I’m a good man from people. I feel like a good man.
A good person. I feel happy. Alive. In love with the world.

But I feel this way because I have known so much tragedy that I have learned to
see the beauty in even the darkest corners. I found a light. A candle amongst the
silent darkness of my experience.

I have nothing to offer you but my love, my understanding and my compassion.

I will be gone soon. I have always missed you.

So I imagine it goes without saying.

Be well dad,

In love,

Your son,

Matt.

P.S. this letter was written on the back of some poetry. I’ve recently been
published. One day maybe I’ll have an album.

I’ll send it to you if I do.