The two words I hate most in the English language.
Dear Dad,
I hate that you’re not writing back.
I hate that you died.
I hate not having a dad.
I hate Mr. Schick.
Mom says I shouldn’t use the word “hate.” Instead, I should say, “dislike.” OK. I dislike Mr. Schick. I dislike him intensely. In other words, I hate him.
Yesterday at practice, Mr. Schick announced to the team that we’ll be having a father/son basketball game. He said, “As soon as you get home, go right up to your dad and really encourage him to come and play. What I’d like to see is every boy’s dad out there on the court!”
Then he turned to me and said, “Oh, and Trevor, you’re still welcome to come, even though you don’t have—even though your dad has uhhh, passed away.” Everybody looked at me to see how I would respond. My response was in my head, where I thought: Mr. Schick is a bastard. I wish he would pass away.
The two words I hate most in the English language are “passed away.” Just say “died.” My dad died. He’s dead. You didn’t pass away.
There is no damn way I’m going to a father/son basketball game. Heck, Mr. Schick probably wouldn’t play me anyway.
Your son,
Trevor
Leave a Reply