I've never really told anyone this, but saying the word "daddy" aloud almost feels like tasting a food I've never tried before. It's unfamiliar, and feels out of place within the shape of my mouth.
I didn't grow up as a daddy's girl, because I didn't grow up with a daddy. I don't know what it's like to yell your name to stop tickling me, to shout your name with joy because you're home from work.
...
I've also never really told anyone this, but I've carried this picture around every single day for as long as I can remember, tucked safely inside a ziplock bag in my purse...
So I carry it around as proof that at one point, I was a little girl who had a daddy. Even though those memories are faded and blurry and quiet and clouded from grief and from healing...
Because you left us, you left us, you left us.
I'll never quite understand, and maybe I'm not supposed to - because how do you ever understand how your daddy chose to abandon four young kids who unconditionally adored him?
I know you were troubled, I know you were broken, I know you were lost.
I forgive your troubled heart, your broken spirit, your lost soul.
Yet today, when the day of your death coincides with Father's Day, I am the one feeling troubled and broken and lost in so many emotions.
But I hope you know that I look at your picture everyday. And I miss you.
And, Daddy... You'd be so proud of mom, so proud of us.
But the little girl inside of me will always miss you, will always question, will always feel confused... and will always wonder what life would've been like if I'd been able to feel the word "Daddy" come out of my mouth every single day.
-your Valentine <3
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