An open letter to my father taken too early

Dad,

It seems almost my whole life has been nothing but a text to you. The sad part is, it was never an actual text because I never had your phone number. I got my first phone at the age of 9, and I kept thinking ‘I love my daddy so much, yet I have no way to call him, hear his voice, read his texts or laugh at his silly, corny jokes’. It seems my whole life has been spent speaking to you and never hearing your response, but simply imagining and filling in the blanks of what you might say.

When I started pre-school, I remember being dropped off by grandma, my uncle and mom, the people that built you to become who you were. I cried, not wanting them to leave me — not only was I afraid of being alone, but I couldn’t understand why you weren’t there and everyone else was.

Elementary school was even harder. I still couldn’t understand why you weren’t there, and it made me more and more angry as various events approached. Learning to read, my first book, fun projects like the “100 days of kindergarten”, my first science fair, my first F on a test — these were all things I spent only imagining you were there, which got harder and harder, making me angrier and angrier at you.

When Mom found someone new, it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary for me until the father daughter dance came around and I questioned why every other 9-year-old could call him “Dad”. During the funny family nights, the stressful nights of them arguing, the crazy days of family vacations, and the scary night of when mom and I were robbed at night alone — you weren’t ever there. The love I had to share with my elementary school best friend when her dad passed away; no one understood why I didn’t know how to help her cope with the grieving. Then just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, graduation time came around.

High school became unbearable. As I turned 15 and walked the halls of Morton West for the first time, in a new town, with no friends, no one to talk to but family, and no familiar faces, even I had never felt more alone. The school work got harder and my life became more complicated. Becoming a woman was something that hit me like a truck and came way too fast.

The days I wanted to share with you the most were the ones that seemed unbearably long. Not being able to fill your name into emergency contacts for my first job, not having you to pat me on the back for making my school softball team (because baseball was your favorite sport), not having you there for the fights with my best friends or my step-sister you never got to meet. The worst was not having you there to take a side when I thought mom was being the most awful person in the world.

Prom weekend — what they call “the best weekend of high school” — was spent wondering why all of my best friends had cute pictures with their dads and I was only able to stand around and watch for that part. Life for me changed in high school: I finally learned the stress of finals week, term papers, and college applications, and the insane excitement I felt when I was admitted and committed to my future home — the University of Iowa. Where were you to pat me on the back or give me a hug? Then when graduation time came around, I walked across the stage, all of our loved ones’ eyes on me except for yours.

As the summer progressed and the countdown became shorter and shorter until the day I would move to an entirely different state and leave everyone and everything I have ever known back home, it seemed like the scariest thing in the world. Long summer nights were spent with my friends getting in and out of trouble, doing my best to have the best time I could before leaving and everything changing.

Getting into the scariest car accident of my life is when things changed for me. I came to college a day later and it was the only thing on my mind for weeks. I thought about it over and over and questioned how my friends and I were so lucky that it was not so much worse. At Iowa, I met some of the best people I could have ever imagined. You hear stories of so many people’s lives and see that everyone has a story, a family, a question that has yet to be answered, an anger that haunts them every night, and a missing piece of them.

Time and time again I’ve questioned where you were and what you were doing during all of these amazing events, and why they were spent without you. Now I can see you’ve been right alongside me the entire time.

When I made it through that first time getting dropped off at pre-school you were there making me happy when I finally made it inside. You were there making sure I was having fun while I was in school. You were there when I failed my first test to be that whisper in my ear that I would get it next time and to try harder. You were there when mom and I got robbed, making sure it wasn’t worse than it was. You were there when I found out I made the softball team helping me smack those balls to the outfield. You were there when I thought I was alone in everything to reassure me I never was. You were there when I got accepted to my top college to pat me on the back, even if I couldn’t feel it. You were there in my prom pictures, too — the beautiful light shining behind me in every picture, so instead of taking one with you, I never took one without you. You were there making sure no other cars hit mine when we got into the car accident.

Most of all, you were there when I walked across the stage at graduation, walking with me because watching from the stands with everyone else was simply not good enough.

Losing you two weeks before I was born seemed like the worst thing that could have happened for the past 18 years. What I never realized is a child simply cannot understand why things happen the way they do — they can’t always improvise and take the good out of all of them. Growing older, I only have things to be thankful for and no longer stay angry. I am thankful for my beautiful mother you fell in love with and left for me to have. I am thankful for the astonishing “Gram” that I had my whole life to listen, spoil me and bake me cookies. I am thankful for the affectionate and doting family you gave me. I am thankful for the wonderful man who loves my mom unconditionally that you watch over. I am thankful for the sisters I have that you protect as if they were your own because they are my rocks. I understand now, and I am not angry anymore. I am thankful for you, for even though you were taken from this world too early, you have never left my side and made me stronger than I ever imagined I could be. You have made me who I am today. I love you.