Issues

Men grew up around her

She watched them as society molded them

Changed them

Her father was a confused man, a man who had a lot of pain.

He had a big heart, but he didn't know what to do with it.

He had a heaviness in his heart,

he drank it away.

She watched as her father closed herself off more and more.

She longed to break down his walls, but the walls were made of brick.

It was as if she was watching him through a screen door.

She could see him, but couldn't quite get to him.

She watched as the bottles of tequila were hidden.

She watched as he left his marriage.

He was there, though, when it mattered.

Maybe she'd never have that dad that is active, she'd never have that dad to go on long walks with, to really adventure with.

But, he was there for her when it mattered.

He fixed things for her. He ran to her side when things got bad.

And as she grew older, they became friends.

But, she didn't need a friend, she needed a dad.

This longing to be close, this hope of fixing a man, followed her.

It was hard for her to find a solid relationship with men.

Even friendships with men became messy. She didn't understand boundaries. She thought it was her job to do the fixing. Her job to be the caretaker. She thought that everything had to fall on her shoulders. That's all she'd ever known.

She watched as he stopped taking care of himself altogether. He finally quit drinking, but it was still too late.

The women around him tried to help him, but again, it was too late.

His body aged quickly in front of her, until there was nothing left.

His liver faded away, and so did his mind, so did his soul.

She took care of him until the very end.

She cared for him and tried to fix him, just as she did when he was alive.

She needed a father figure to care for her, a father who could be emotionally available. Someone who would open the screen door and let her walk through.

That option is completely gone. So what is she to do? She loses herself in the wrong men, she cares for the wrong people. But she works hard to find herself, and learns to grow and find her worth.

But still, the hole in her heart is bigger than ever. Who is supposed to take care of her now? Will the void of a missing father ever leave?

Even in death, he left a mess for her to clean up. He left her scrambling to find the answers. She had family to help her along the way, but at the end of the day, nothing changed the fact that he was still gone. He left her with a broken heart.

She was in her late 20s, she was an adult, so she was supposed to be able to be strong enough. She was supposed to be able to handle it. But how could she? When at the end of the day, that little girl in her heart is still waiting for a father to choose her instead of himself. To choose her instead of alcohol. To choose her.

What does one do when they're angry at someone who has passed on? Where do you put that resentment?

We aren't supposed to speak ill of the dead, so instead she stays quiet. But the feelings never leave, they bubble up, and turn to tears. Sometimes they turn to anger, other times they turn to depression.

But still, she gets up every day with hope. She makes her bed, she smiles and laughs, she remains optimistic. She learns to care for herself, and she knows she will continue to be surrounded by love.

No wonder, though, she longs for acceptance. No wonder she longs for closeness, and wants to be cared for. Can you blame her?

She realizes how much fathers impact their daughters, she realizes it isn't something you really know until you face something as difficult as this. She sits and hopes that whoever she ends up with will be a better father, or "father figure" to her children. She hopes for a brighter future. But, the hole in her heart will never close. Perhaps, though, it can be cushioned, with the love of her support system.

Hope, love, and time. That's what she needed most.

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This story is based off of real events in the writer's life. But aspects of it aren't completely accurate. This was a therapeutic exercise in order to put the negative parts of her experience into writing.