My heart belongs to daddy; because daddy…he treats it so well

Today I’m no Supermom. No Superwife. No Superworker. I’m just a little girl wondering where her Papa went. Today 6 years ago, God stole him from me. I tell my kids the reason why their Nana is not there is because God wants all the best people with him, but honestly that’s bullshit. There is no logical or otherwise, reason why my family was stripped off our central character; the glue that kept us together. We are not the richest, not the luckiest, not the smartest – but we were the happiest little family in the world.

How can somebody so real, so vibrant, so ALIVE just disappear off the face of this earth? It is an unfathomable thought. My father was surrounded by a constant buzz – he had a HUGE circle of friends and we had a large family who all gathered around him like bees to honey…that was just his way. His sheer energy attracted people and our lives were full of people, activities, laughter, love and new –ness. Papa was interested in so many things. He was a suave and sophisticated dresser. What I never appreciated earlier are the things I am amazed to discover now that they fit into my world – his wardrobe had aviators, leather bomber jackets, every kind of watch, pen and gadget of that time and of course matching shoes, socks, ties, hankies to everything. He loved music, food, port, cigars – all the things I associate with a worldly, dashing, charming man…only I never knew it then!

What I did know was that he was unfailingly, unequivocally, madly, blindly, in love with me. Girls spend their whole lives looking for the man of their dreams, that one man who would do anything for them, but what we don’t realise is, we already have them – our Fathers. We look and look and look and of course we don’t find. We find other amazing men, but not that ONE who is the Hero of our dreams; after all, who can compete with the one man who helped us understand what a man’s love was anyway? How can this adult man compete with the Papa who called his daughter princess, kissed her ouchies better, beat up the boys who came to date her, gave her away (protesting loudly) to another man, watched her become a mother? Papa’s hands were the warmest, his embrace the most secure, his voice the most soothing and without these things, I run from pillar to post trying to prove myself so I can get his attention….only to know that this is futile for he is gone.

My heart aches when I think of all that he has missed, that he is missing, that he will miss. He would have loved all the happy times, stood solidly strong against the sad and booed the scary ones away. But more than anything, I miss being my Papa’s little girl. Today, 6 years ago, his little girl was forced to grow up.

I envy those big business families who immortalise their parents through their family’s work. I neither have the money, nor the bandwidth. But in the name of my father, I live everyday. I work everyday. I try everyday. I grow everyday. And I know for my Papa, that would be enough.


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