A Love Letter to My Father
For 30 years, I’ve felt like I never knew how to live in a world where you didn’t exist.
Hello, Papa.
How are you doing right now, wherever you are? I hope the Divine keeps you safe, protected, and loved as you wait for the end of the world, or heaven and hell, if there are any. I hope you’ve attained enlightenment and will not have to reincarnate in this lifetime.
I’m 30 years old now, and despite all the difficulties and volatility in my life, I’ve come out rather well. I went to good schools, earned both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, became an expert on a certain topic, have a great-paying career that actually corresponds with my principles, and am surrounded by people I adore. Because of you, I have always made an effort in school and want to live up to the expectations of intelligence that were placed on me after you passed.
Mama and her new husband bought the house where I live now. Mama remarried two years ago, 15 years after you died. I was 27 at the time, and I’ve now accepted that it’s really selfish of me not to want her to remarry after your death. When I was a teenager and in my early twenties, I was adamant that I didn’t want anybody else to be my father, but no one can be my father; whoever Mama marries, you will always be my papa.
In the wake of your passing, I changed into a withdrawn, awkward teenager. As you well know, I’ve always been an odd duck. When I was a youngster, I was really close to you because you were the only one who would answer all the questions I had that Mama believed I shouldn’t ask, including whether or not there were other life forces in this universe, what the point of religion was if it only made people cruel to each other and imposed their way as the only way, and what the purpose of life was. But don’t worry, Papa. Even though it took a long time, I’ve finally connected with a group of people that accept me completely, quirks and all.
But I’ve hurt people I love during my journey through life. I thought love meant death when you died, and I never wanted to feel that type of sadness again, so I kept everyone, including those I love, at arm’s length. I became wary of engaging in intimate relationships, not realizing that your death had affected my manner of loving and the love language I was employing. I suffered several heartbreaks because I refused to fully grieve; I’m not sure how.
I too appear to have undiagnosed ADHD, and since it’s hereditary, I wondered whether it came from you because I recall you being in your heads a lot like me. I’m wondering whether that’s why Mama is always insecure about you and feels like she doesn’t get the affection she deserves, which is why she’s a control freak who micromanages everything.
My undiagnosed ADHD, combined with childhood bereavement, resulted in catastrophic breakdowns and many mental health issues in my early to mid-twenties. When I was 25, I first experienced clinical depression. I began to doubt myself and to feel that I had failed not only you but everyone who had high hopes for me after my first try at a master’s scholarship was unsuccessful and I became very dysfunctional at my professional employment. And while I was doing my master’s in Boston on a scholarship, I, too, was having a tough time keeping up. My closest friend and Kak Mita and Kak Vika described my lifestyle as “chaotic,” and I was very depressed because I felt that I didn’t deserve this chance and that I’d failed everyone once again. The failure of my romantic connection, which I hope will endure forever, drove me to attempt suicide, and I spent time in the hospital as a result.
Then I remembered how awful your death was. So I kept going, always for the sake of others and never for myself. I have no compassion for myself because I am convinced of who I am and that my baggage is too much for anyone to bear. I became a people-pleaser, lacked the ability to set limits, and overcompensated since I felt like a hopeless cause despite all of my efforts to make you proud. The reassurances of others went unheard, and I never believed in my own abilities; therefore, I suffered from acute and persistent worry in regards not only to my professional work but to me as a human being too.
Now, however, I feel more at ease. I’ve now come to terms with the fact that I’ve suffered from a great deal of unresolved trauma that has caused me to act out in ways that have harmed not only others but also myself. Consequently, I’ve been seeing a therapist in an effort to treat any unresolved traumas and with the expectation that, no matter what challenges or setbacks I face, I will always be able to recover and go forward. You and Mama have a profound impact on who I am. You have taught me empathy, openness, and humility, and from Mama I have learned the qualities of hard work and perseverance. I’ve often thought about how very kind you both are and how that kindness takes many forms. You’re a naive optimist who assumes the best of others and supports them without question. Mama is more wary, but she truly is the embodiment of her name, “Mulia,” which means “glorious,” since she has a wonderful heart and, despite her no-nonsense attitude, has never met a person she didn’t want to help. And you did embody your name, “Mustika,” a diamond, a magical gem, for your wisdom, which transcended everyone’s conditioning.
With every breath I take, I adore you eternally and unconditionally. A friend told me that I thought of you as a “saint” because I didn’t get to watch you grow up and that if I had known you as an adult, I would have thought differently about you. After giving it some thought, I asked Mama if you’ve ever cheated or been abusive, or what shortcomings you have as a human being. You have several, and evidently some of them are inherited by me: your intellectual arrogance, your naivety (which I think is a strength rather than a flaw), your separation from intimacy, and your harshness of honesty, which most people may not appreciate. Despite knowing all of your shortcomings, I still adore you; I don’t consider you a “saint,” but rather a best friend with whom I can talk about anything, and you’d just sit there with your legs crossed and books or newspapers in your hands, answering all of my crazy questions. Even when I was a child, I felt seen for who I truly am by you, but Mama had a concept of how I should be.
“My world has stopped when he passed.” I told my counselor. And it’s been latent and destructive for so long, ready to explode at any moment like a time bomb. But, Papa, I’m moving on; the world goes on; I’ll still love and miss you; I’ll still wish to be with you; but I’ll also live my life to the fullest and grow more and more aware of my trauma and how it conditioned me. I wish everyone well; like you, even when people do you wrong, you believe in karma — you reap what you sow. and I do as well.
Recently, I’ve been able to find you in the Divine’s creations, such as the soft wind, Oncom (my cat; she’s fat and weird), the laughter of my beloved, the morning air in Bintara, and the ebbing and flowing of the waves along the coast of Bali. You permeate this beautiful universe I’ve fallen in love with. And when I did, I felt secure in the knowledge that I was surrounded by an infinite supply of love and that I was always prepared to return the love to everyone and everything in this universe.
Jakarta, December 2, 2022
Your dearest Ade Rinta
