Today is the fourth anniversary of my daughter’s biological father’s death.
I’ve struggled for years to come to terms with his suicide, trying to find it within my heart to forgive him for the way he lived his life and the way he ended it without so much as a second thought about the child he was leaving behind…
It’s been a long four years.
They say that children are resilient and they recover quickly. That has been partially true for my daughter, but I’d be a fool to think she was “over it” – is it ever really possible to get over the loss of your father when you were only 10 years old at the time of his death?
He’s missed so much in the last four years.
Just when I think I’ve found forgiveness, I find myself angry again.
She is doing well, because she is a resilient kid. But she misses him.
Of course she does.
She finished middle school and will be a high schooler in a matter of mere months. She got into a really good high school, into the program she wanted so badly. She had her first big school dance, her eighth grade prom, a few weeks ago.
He missed it all.
She wore the necklace he gave her when she was 10 to her prom to have a little piece of him with her on her special day.
I wish she had been able to call him and tell him all about it. I know that she wished she could have too.
She’s taller than I am now. If he were here, he would never stop making fun of me for being shorter than a 14 year old girl.
He’d probably argue with me over not letting her listen to Nine Inch Nails.
He’d most definitely not approve of the way I let her dress. I can almost hear him saying, “Don’t let her wear those tight skinny jeans!”
He’d be so proud of her because she is such a fantastic kid.
It’s so weird to me, to think that he’s really been gone this long.
He was larger than life, and his laughter, his craziness, even his obnoxiousness, has carried him past his untimely death.
Cheston Wade Little, you are missed, but not forgotten.