My father and I got along alright, I guess. I stayed out of his way. He seemed to get along with my brother and mom a lot more and he put them before me all the time. I knew him since I was 4. I was adopted and he was the first man to respect me as a little girl. My biological father and grandfather, and my previous foster parent all took advantage, so I had been through a lot by the time I had gone to live with my father.
When I was little and first moved with him, I was daddy's little princess. But as time went on, I got older and my brother got more and more athletic. My dad kinda’ stopped paying attention to me and put me to the side. He said I was old enough and smart enough to do things on my own.
My mom walked out on us when I was 18. I moved out and got pregnant. My brother, Dad's pride and joy, walked out on him as well. I would stop in all the time to check on him and see how things were. He was there in the delivery room when my son was born. He took me to work every morning and spent time with my son. One day, I was going to take him some new pictures of my son, but I had gotten caught up and decided to take them in the morning. The next morning, I got a phone call that my dad had passed away the day before. When I asked what had happened, no one knew. All they told me was that he didn't show up for dinner at my grandpa's at 5 pm like he did every night, so my grandpa went to his house to check on him and found in him in his office, on the floor. I felt sick because had I of taken him the pictures like I had planned, I would have been the one to see my father. We found out that he had had a massive heart attack, and being alone he didn't make it. Some say he died from a broken heart because his love, my mom and his son had both walked out on him, and he couldn't take it any more.
There were so many things left unsaid. He always told me that he loved me, but never showed me. He always took my mom and my brother’s sides, even when they both walked out and I was the only one there. He still only talked about how much he wanted them both to come back. I guess I just wish he would have told me he was proud of me and that he would have spent more time with me than he did. I talked to him a few days before he passed away. We talked on the phone. I had called to check on him to make sure that he was doing okay, and that he had food.
My mom was there for the funeral, but she wanted pity from everyone because she felt so guilty. That lasted a whole 2 days, and then she was back to her old self, with her boyfriend. My brother was there, wanting to know what he was going to get out of it. He said it was like a vacation, to be back. He didn't have to go to school. His family didn't really want anything to do with me because of my mom, and a cousin had the nerve to ask me at his funeral what my plans were with his car. My best friend stayed with me the night I found out, until about 2 am. My boyfriend was pretty understanding, but still ended up at the bar that night with his friends. So I got myself pretty sick from all the emotions and hurt.
The LovePoetry poem I turned to for comfort in this time of grief was Voice of Your Heart
by Lily Tchen.
It was August when my father passed away so it has been about 5 months and not a day goes by that I don't tear up, especially when my boyfriend and I talk about plans for our wedding next year. Every girl dreams of their father walking them down the aisle.
Live to your fullest. Every child says they hate their mother or fathers at least once; just eat your words because they won’t always be there for you. Spend as much time as you can with the people you love the most, because once they're gone, you can't get that time back.