Yesterday, when the phone rang, my heart lifted a bit. I quietly hoped that you would be calling to check on the condition of your hospitalized 14 year-old half-brother, my son.

After all, you knew that he had seriously injured his arm and required surgery the night before. You also knew that we had been at the hospital all night. You knew this because I texted you and you sort of responded. I even sent you a picture of his really awful looking wound, which you were horrified by.

But, instead, you called to tell me all about your "awesome" weekend plans, which involved driving an hour and a half to meet some new boy and hopefully "get drunk" on the bottle of vodka he had promised you. Not really solid life choices, but probably something I would have done at your age or younger. Even though, I sure as hell wouldn't be telling my father about it.

Regardless, you didn't mention my son, your "broskie" as you call him, until I brought it up. Even then, you didn't ask how he was, how the surgery went, how painful it was for him, or what the verdict on the damage is. Or even ask how my wife, his mother, might be handling her son being in the hospital. He'll be fine by the way. He narrowly missed an artery, and the original diagnosis of a broken elbow turned out to be false, but thank you for your concern. Oh wait, you didn't show any.

I spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was being too critical of your lack of empathy. Then my mother called. She lives further away from us by a long shot, and we get to see her once every 2 years or so. She called just before her bedtime looking for an update. In fact, the first words out of her mouth were "How's my baby boy?" Because that's what family does.

Then at church this morning, perfect strangers to me were asking about his health. Which I appreciated.

What I found incredibly ironic is the reasoning you broke up with your boyfriend just last week. You called me up in tears because you felt like he was ignoring you. Like when you told him your grandmother was in the hospital, he didn't respond at all and you took that as being very hurtful and a reason to break up with him. Ironic. Hypocritical. Inconsistent.

You may think I'm being unfair, but it's just another indication of how you don't really care about my family, even if you say you do. Hell, I wouldn't have even noticed this attitude if you had never called yesterday. I would have updated you by text, and you would have responded, it's just that your attitude came through loud and clear over the phone yesterday. The next time you call the house, it will be to talk to your "broskie" and nobody else.

You have orbited around the periphery of this family for far too long now. Either you're in, like you say you are, or your out. Again, your choice. My involvement in your life is directly relative to how you treat the people I love, which shows how you treat me. Being young isn't an excuse anymore. You're almost 23. You have your own life and your own responsibilities, I know. Which is all we talk about when we talk. You never ask about me or work or family or anything, it's always all about you. If you think I'm being harsh in my assessment, I wish somebody had cared enough to have the balls to call me out on my shit when I was your age. It wouldn't have taken me so long, and hurt so many people along the way before I got my act together. Y'see, I know how you think; you and I are so similar in so many ways. But, I demand more consideration and thoughtfulness, than anyone ever demanded of me. I know you're capable of it. I hear about how you are so thoughtful towards friends and co-workers, and I wonder why you don't display that towards us.

Frankly dear, you are treading on the border of apathy in this family. Almost in the realm of irrelevancy. The funny part is, you have complete control over that. Either way you will always get back as much effort as you put in. (seriously, effort like asking some simple questions.) I promise I will not be passive aggressive on this; I will call you out on your shit. If you find that being rude, then so be it.

Love,
Your Father.