Devin Dearing Preston: NYC writer, playwright, and storyteller

Dear Dev,

August 18, 2011


Ah’m serious. You need to cut this shit out! Git on with yer life. Don’t make me come down there!

Ah’ve been dead for over six years. Six, Dev. Ah refuse to believe that yer life is so terrible. And that it’s all my fault. Ah wasn’t even around. You didn’t see hardly iny of my drinkin’.

I also don’t remimber you ever askin me to stop. You had a life time ofopportunities and not once did you tell me you had a problem with it. Not once, Dev.

God damn it, Dev. To sit here and listen to you go on and on about how you will never find love or a healthy relationship is jest horse shit, and you know it! You are smarter than that. You are better than that. What does my drinkin have to do with the rest of yer life?

What about Sam? Didn’t she have a hand at raisin ya?  I don’t see youwritin her iny letters. She’s the one who kept the place a mess. Worked all those nights. Don’t you think this is all my fault. I won’t stand for it. No, Ma’am.

You are the one who can’t move on. It’s over, honey. I’m dead. Dead as a door nail. Close the chapter. Nuthin you do now is gonna change the events of the past. You can try. Sounds like you have been tryin. But ain’t gonna do iny good.

You can go on dating all the losers you want, but that is yer choice. I gave you Dr. Laura’s book about the Ten stupid things women do to mess up their lives. Looks like you didn’t learn a god damn thing.

Men aren’t goin to complete you. They won’t take care of you. And they certainly won’t make you happy. That’s sound advice.

I’m real sorry you feel this way, Dev. But you also need to take some responsibility for your actions, for Christ sake.

Jesus, I wish you would have told me sooner. To be honest, I never did consider how my drinkin could be hurtin you girls. I was always so proud of you. And thankful that Sam did such a good job. You never got into inytrouble. Never dicked around with boys. Went to college. Moved to New York.

Thing are gonna be fine, Dev. I give you my word. I know it doesn’t mean much to you now, but I do wish things had been different. For your sake. For all of our sakes.

Shit, I guess I really fucked up. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. And quitdatin those jerks, honey. I mean it. They aren’t fer you. You are too special to me to be waistin yerself on any loser who doesn’t see that. Really, you were too special to be waistin it all on me, if you want to know the truth. Specially toward the end. I did a lot of things I’m not too proud of Dev. And Ah see now that you knew about all of ’em. You got a good memory, Dev. Shit.

Ah won’t sit here and make excuses. Ah fucked up. Maybe Ah was scared. Maybe Ah was a little selfish. Maybe Ah was a dick from time to time. But Ah always loved you. Ah was always proud of you. You and yer sister.

If you don’t wanna end up with someone jist like me, quit datin guys jistlike me. It’s that simple. You can’t mend our relationship by tryin to fix a different one that looks jist like it. So, quit. More importantly, Ah need you to quit worrying about it. You got this, Dev. You are a super hot catch, and don’t need to be givin iny of these little disrespectful shits the time of day.

Ah’m tired of lettin you let assholes fuck with my daughter. Ah most certainly don’t need to hear about it. And definitely won’t believe it’s allmy fault. You have a choice, Dev. Jist don’t do it anymore.

Ah’ve said my piece. Jest quit it!

Love you with all my heart,

Yer Dad


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Categories: Letters I Will Never Send

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