It’s been 3 years, 1 month, 1 week, and 3 days since you died. I’ve grown up so much. I’ve gone from the awkward 8th grade girl with the braces and the multicolored hair, just figuring out who she was, to a senior in high school. Sometimes I wonder if I would be a different person if you were alive.
I still think about you every day. And sometimes, when I should be asleep, I cry, too. I miss you, Daddy. I wish you were here to protect me, like you used to do when I was little and afraid of the monsters under my bed.
I wish I had listened to you when I was 8 and you told me that a boy would break my heart some day. I wish I had listened to you before I let the boy I thought I loved take my virginity. I know that, if you were alive, you would have never allowed me to date. Sometimes, when the heartbreak feels unbearable, I wish I wasn’t allowed to date, too.
I wish you were here to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be alright like you once did. I wish you were here to pull me out of school and take me to Disneyland like you used to. I wish you were here to play Nerf tag with me on every Christmas morning like we once did.
I wish I could be mad at you for overdosing on crack so far away from home. I wish I could feel some sort of anger, because maybe then I wouldn’t miss you so much and hate myself for not saying goodbye when I had the chance.
Daddy, I love you, and I always will. I hope that you’d be proud of the person I’m becoming.