June 17 2023

I’ve been thinking about my father recently. As Father’s Day comes and goes there are still lingering feelings of resentment and sorrow, but I’ve learned to just accept things as they are. Some of the greatest have navigated through life without knowing their fathers. I know I’m no LeBron (yet) but I am him.

The same resentments I’ve harbored toward my mother are the same for my father. As I’ve grown older I’ve learned to forgive my mother and repair my relationship with her. She didn’t ask for the cards she was dealt. She was a child raising a child in an environment unsuited for that.

As for my father, it’s time to let go. There’s no point in holding in negative feelings that I can’t act on. There’s nothing productive in loathing someone who can’t defend himself. As much I as can play victim and be angry, there’s nothing I can do to repair my relationship with him. He’s dead. Therefore I must repair whatever is going on internally and heal.

It’s a baffling concept to wrap my head around, but I feel like I owe Ruben Garcia Sr. an apology.

On January 17, 2016 (my 22nd birthday) I penned a letter to my father and published it. It was titled “Exodus 20:5” after the Bible verse that implies God will punish the children of those who have sinned. Jay Z references the scripture perfectly on “New Day” rapping “sins of a father make your life ten times harder.”

I wasn’t happy with a lot back then and my writing showed that. The letter starts off in a fury:

“Dear Dad:

I’m not sure if I should even call you that. That three letter word is not who you are. I would like to think of you as a father, but in reality you’re just a sperm donor.”

Further down the letter more hate-fueled words scream out:

“When I learned of your death I was disgusted. I was most disgusted when I read your obituary in the Visalia Times Delta. It read, ‘Ruben is survived by the love of his life, his wife, Tanya Garcia. His loving children, Isaiah, Vincent and Marina Garcia of Farmersville, Ca. His son, Ruben Garcia Jr. of Visalia.’ You had the audacity to have three other children with another woman in a town merely 15 minutes away from mine. Pathetic.”

Rereading the letter brought back childhood-like memories and I don’t mean memories from when I was a child, but rather those memories of me still being a child at 22-years-old. I thought I had it all figured out back then. I didn’t.

I’d like to apologize to the man and in turn apologize to myself. I’m sorry pops for resenting you. I’m sorry for laughing and poking fun at the way you died. Not a heroin overdose but rather a methadone overdose. I’m sorry for painting this picture of a deranged man who abandoned his family.

But most of all I’m sorry to myself. I’m sorry for allowing myself to play victim and use my lack of a father as an excuse for my transgressions. It was so easy to blame him every time I fucked up. Every time I got in trouble with the law or with my partners I had a valid excuse. Like father, like son.

My thought process was sickening. Of course you’re in this shitty situation. Of course you fucked up again. Of course you ruined another relationship. You are your father’s son. This is expected. All those hopes and dreams are nothing. You were intended to amount to nothing and that’s what will happen. You are Ruben Garcia Jr. You are the son of a sinner and you will pay for his sins. The alcoholism, the poor decision making, the recklessness, the inability to hold yourself accountable, it’s all justified. You are your father’s son. Sure you never met the man, but you are him. He is you.

No more of that. I am loved. I am happy. I am thriving. I am Ruben Garcia Jr. I may possess some of those qualities that made my father a sick man, but I’m sure I got some of his gems too. Like this goddamn smile. I mean, look at me.

With all that, Happy Father’s Day y’all. I see y’all and I am proud of y’all. It brings me great joy seeing men I’ve developed relationships with being loving fathers. That shit makes me so happy. Salute.