a heartbroken daughter.
My father passed away 21 years ago. I was 23. My heart shattered.
To this day I still grieve. How could I not, no other man would love me like he did. I don’t have any lofty, fairly tale, white knight imagery of this love either. We had our ups and downs and he could be darn right mean, but he was my daddy and I was his little girl.
When he died I was just starting to get things right. I was a young mother and on my second marriage when he left us. As much as I screwed things up from the ages of 18-23 I made up for in spades as a wife and mother. I have homeschooled two amazing daughters that are currently in college and killing it. (Both on scholarship and both debt free. I couldn’t be more proud) My husband and I have been happily married for 21 years now. He is a good man and wonderful father.
We have taken every bit of financial advice he ever gave (my father was a CPA by profession) and built our lives on that. We are debt free and have a a comfortable retirement plan in place. His fingerprints are all over our lives and he is missing it. I can’t write him and tell him how much I appreciate him and the impact he has had on our lives and our daughter’s lives. I can’t thank him.
Most days it’s not a big deal. I don’t sit and pine away everyday longing to see him. But, it’s days like today, when big things happen in our family and I want to share the joy of it with him. Today my oldest daughter is starting her last year of earning her master’s. She is debt free and on track to graduate with a 4.0. My youngest landed a job in her new town that pays better than the job she left here at home. My daddy would be so proud. I just wish I had the chance to tell him and see the look of pride on his face. I can picture it, but it’s just not the same. It’s just a void, a giant deafening black hole where his cheering section used to be.