Daddy and I

Dear Diary,

When I was a little girl, my father was my hero. I admired him more than anyone in my little world. He was everything to me. I would spend my summers going to work with him, not because I was interested in what he did, but because I wanted to spend time with him. I found him fascinating. The way he would take me into his arms and put me on his feet so we could dance together. The world would disappear around me when I was with my dad. With him, nothing could scare me. I was the happiest little girl in the world.

My father was the strongest person I knew. In my innocent eyes, he could do no wrong. I knew then that I would never fear anything, because this man was my father. He would protect me until the very end. I saw my father as the Hulk, completely and utterly indestructible. I guess I had to grow up to learn that he is as human as anyone else in this world. 

Little me put so much faith in this man that when I realized he was not as good or as strong as I made him out to be, it shook me to the core. Everything I had built my whole life crumbled right under my eyes, like a sandcastle collapsing under the weight of the ocean waves. 

Today, I find myself questioning that little girl’s memories. She was blinded by this rosy fantasy of her father. How could she not realize how flawed he was, or did her love for him overwhelm all of her senses?

Here I am, asking myself, 'How did I not see it?' The abuse, the manipulation, and everything else in between. Was it innocence or love? Which one of those emotions kept me blind to the truth for so long?

Reality pushed me out of my innocent bubble, and I could finally see things for what they really were. They were not as picture-perfect as I seem to remember. Growing up means receiving a new pair of glasses that makes you question what you once believed in. 

Despite everything I know now, my love for my father is unwavering. The child in me refuses to give up on her protector. Who is going to protect me from the monsters under my bed? Whose arms will I run to when I feel lost? 

I know how pathetic this sounds. I am not supposed to rely on anyone but myself, but he is my “father,” the only man I ever knew. The first one who held me in his arms and said, “The sky is your limit, Princess.” 

He was also the same man who broke my mother’s fingers and the same one who sent my sister to the hospital with a nail in her knee. 

Does that mean I never knew him? Or does it simply mean that he loved me more than he loved them? If so, why put such a burden on a child? 

At first I wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was a bad husband but a good dad. But my sister disagrees. Not everyone can wear father and husband titles and be great at both. Am I just making excuses for him? How can I not? I am hoping I am all wrong and that I can just go back to being clueless. 

I do not hate my father at all. I just feel lost and completely broken.

I am not strong enough yet to say, “Screw him.” I am not strong enough yet to walk away and start fighting my

own battles. Chase away the monsters on my own. Should I have to? I never asked for any of it. Why should I have to choose between my mother and my father?

Daddy, I love you.

When Mum calls me crying about you, I do hate you for a split second. But then my brain tricks me into thinking about what would happen if you disappeared, and my heart breaks. I do not want to be without you.

Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you be a good dad, a good husband, and a good man in general? Please make the pain stop.

The first man I ever loved completely broke my heart, yet here I am, telling him I love him and crying at the thought of losing him. No matter how bad you are and what kind of man you are, I still need you to chase away my monsters and scare away my boyfriends.

Tell me, how am I supposed to move on without you?

I am mourning more than just the loss of my father. I am mourning the loss of love and innocence.