I can live without you

No one ever said it would be easy.

All too often parents grow to become their children's very best friend. They guide them towards their wants and needs. They don't stop to allow that child to try getting there without them. 

I find myself doing this sometimes. I take it easy on my kids because they are all I have. We are the team. I forget so easily that I am the leader of this team. I am guilty of giving in because I don't want to see them sad. I don't want to upset them. 

But then I think back to my childhood. My parents would not allow me to get away with some of the things many do today. My parents would never allow me to talk back or get what I want simply because I put a sappy face on. 

Id like to think that I try my best most times, but sometimes I am lazy to the idea that I am the one shaping these two. When I lie down for bed at night, I get to thinking. I've got to get this right- right now, before its too late. I will not be one of those parents. I may be raising my children alone, but that is no reason to allow for error. I will not use that as an excuse. I've got this. 

After all, one day I will not be here anymore. I've got to ensure these kids have the mind and matter to be okay without me. 

Dont talk too fast to me...slow down...I wanna know.

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.