The bravest man I know. The man who put all of his pride and dignity to the side, and kept me for his own. Accepted me into his life as his daughter. I often wonder his thoughts when he looked at me as a baby. Did he regret it, did he regret making this choice? Did he see another man's eyes in mine? Did he feel anger and anguish when he looked at me? Growing up...when I spoke to him...did he disregard me to an extent because I wasn't his...was I not as important as everyone else?
I remember when I was hospitalized for surgeries...I must have been ten or eleven years old. He brought me this bag full of candy, all of his favorite candies. He told me it was to make me feel better, he told me that everything was going to be okay.
When my daughter died...he was the first one at the front door to find me. He was the one who grieved with me. He was the first one to tell me that everything was going to be okay. He still keeps her photo beside his bed. He sleeps beside her each night...just like me.
i wonder if I ever made him proud of me. My dad isn't the most outspoken guy in the world. He doesn't talk much. I remember times when he looked at me...as though he wanted to break down and tell me his biggest secret. His biggest heartbreak. But he never spoke. His eyes, beamed into mine, with so much sadness and fear...as if he knew he should tell me these secrets, but didn't want to give me any of the pain that existed inside of him. He didn't want me to have to live with those secrets.
I have so many unspoken things to say to this man. So many questions for him. Things and questions that will go left unheard.
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