Reaching Out to Anything That Brings Strength

They say that pain makes you stronger. But does my daddy’s death really make me stronger? Or does it make me small and weak? Either way, I feel confused, hurt, lost, and completely alone. I know, deep down inside, that I have my friends to help me through this, but it’s not the same as having my daddy stand beside me through thick and thin.

I have always been a Daddy’s girl. I never really liked spending time with my mom as much as I liked hanging out in the backyard or in the garage with my daddy. He was the one that taught me how to ride a bike, he was the fix-it man when a toy of mine broke when I was little, and most importantly, he was my hero. Now all of that is gone - taken from me by an abuse, an act that wasn’t necessary, an act of anger and hatred towards my daddy.

To me, he was invincible. Immortal. But I learned the hard way that nobody really is. Everyone dies, and that’s hard to live with. I would be perfectly okay with everyone I love living forever - never dying, never experiencing any pain, and never growing old.

But I know that will never happen. I know that everyone dies eventually, but I wish my daddy’s death didn’t have to be like this. I wish he had died when I was older, maybe even when I was expecting it somehow. I wish I would have known it was the last time I’d ever get to be at his apartment with him. But I didn’t know that. I didn’t know I’d never get to see his smile, or that I’d never get to hear him talk or laugh again.

I wish that man wouldn’t have killed him. I wish my daddy hadn’t died like that. I wish he would have known it was coming somehow and been able to defend himself so maybe he wouldn’t have died. But wishing won’t change the past. I know that now. But I still want the past to change. I still want him here.

I know he’s in a better place, now. At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me, but again - I want him here. I want him to see all my swimming and tennis meets and all my color guard performances. I want him to see me graduate from high school, I want him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, and I want him to be able to get to know my children when they come into this world. But now none of that will happen - all because of an act of hatred towards my father.

I will always be a Daddy’s girl, even though he’s not here anymore. I will always remember the times in the backyard and the garage with him. Part of him will always be there when I get on my bike and he will always be the first one that pops into my head when someone asks me who my hero is. Maybe that’s what makes a person stronger, not the pain or the injustice, but the memories and the things I have learned from my daddy.