Dear President Trump,
I’m writing you this letter to offer you something that you’ve probably never received, something that I feel that you deserve, and something that all the money in the would could never buy —
I’m sorry that I failed you and that I let my love of work, money, and fame monopolize my time. Ah, my precious time. Time that could have and should have been spent nurturing our relationship, was instead squandered selfishly. Sadly, we will never be able to get it back. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to hold your hand and to guide you along the road to becoming a true gentleman. The truth is, I’m not even sure that I knew how to be a true gentleman. I did the best that I could with what I knew, as all parents do, but that is a poor and unacceptable excuse for my absence and deplorable behavior.
I’m sorry that my absence during your formative years caused you to experience such deep pain, pain that ultimately consumed you. With no way to heal yourself, a mere child, it was projected outwardly onto your class-mates as you transformed into the school/neighborhood bully. I’m sorry that I further punished you for my own failures as a father, and for bruising my ego with your delinquency, by taking you out of school and enrolling you at the tender age of 12 into the NY Military Academy. While in attendance, you were put into a uniform, thrown into a tiny cell, and physically abused by the students and adults that supervised you. You were taught that to be a true man, aggression and physical toughness were the supreme requirements and that torture was an acceptable means of punishment.
Where I failed, WWII combat veteran Theodore Dobias did not, but I’m not so sure that his methods were much healthier than my own. He stepped in and became your role model, a man that had fought some of the bloodiest battles in Italy and seen Mussolini’s body swinging from a rope. He was rough and occasionally demanding of you and came after you physically without hesitation if you did not submit. He taught you that, “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”. I’m sorry that I rejected you and gave-up on you so quickly the way that I did. I feel that I forced you to prematurely become an adult, and not just any adult, but a rather tortured and lost soul. It was unfair and something that I have secretly shamed myself for in private for years — carrying it with me to my deathbed.
Lastly, I’m sorry that I blatantly favored your brother over you and that I saw in him the potential to take over the family business — completely overlooking and underestimating your own talent and abilities. It was unfair of me and for that and all the things that I’ve mentioned and haven’t mentioned —
Can you ever forgive me?