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.