Daddy's Girl?

Dad.

He died. A few years ago he got leukemia and I suppose I’m thankful because that gave him the inspiration to get in touch with me. I talked to him more in his last months on earth than I had in the previous 20 years. I miss him. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him this month so I’m hoping that writing about him will help me heal.

Kirk had a huge smile! He made lots of funny faces. I’ve only seen them in pictures but Mom says I make all the same silly expressions.

In high school he was a basketball star! At his funeral an old friend stood up and reminisced about watching his afro bounce down the court as he impressed them all game after game.

He loved my Mom. He loved me.

Unfortunately, he loved drugs more.

I have now lived and learned enough to understand how crippling addiction is. Dad had bi-polar and without medical insurance I assume it was much easier to buy drugs on the streets and use all the uppers and downers available to regulate his manic depressive moods. He was addicted to every type of illegal drug I’ve heard of. My entire life he was in and out of rehab. When he was in rehab it was bittersweet for me. Those were the only times I would receive letters from him. It was often years in between hearing from him and each time it sent me into a detached depressed fear driven world of confusion. When I was 7 years old he sent me a dress that would only fit a 3 year old. He had no concept of time or space but he was trying, I guess.

When I was born my mother had the courage to take me away from him. She didn’t want her daughter being raised by a drug addict. I’m very thankful that she made that choice. While growing up Dad would call and threaten to kidnap me so I had to switch schools and churches. At the time I didn’t know why but thankfully I was a kid who thrived on change and loved making new friends. For a short while he did have visitation rights. He showed me how to start a car with a knife. We ate mashed potatoes together. He told me he loved me. He and his friends were almost always on drugs. A pretty little girl in a ruffled purple dress and a house full of men on drugs led to some very painful experiences for me. But I loved my Dad and I didn’t want to talk about it so I wouldn’t. Mom knew things weren’t right and the 3rd time he tried to pick me up drunk she cut off all his rights to me. I was angry. I wanted a Dad. Oh well.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. I have good memories but there are a lot of blanks in between them. Mom took me to therapist after therapist hoping I would talk about my “feelings” and release some of those repressed memories. But my mind was trying to take care of me. We can only handle so much so my brain waited until I was much older to open up my subconscious mind. I still love my Dad though. I forgive him with all my heart.

The funeral. It is very traumatic to see your father for the first time in 10 years lying dead in a box. But I was so unbelievably happy to see him. I stroked his face. I held his hand. I tried to make his limp arms hug me. It was one of the best days of my life. I finally was with my Dad and he wasn’t hurting me. He was free. His last words were, “Tell Blaze I’m sorry and I love her.” I forgive you and I love you too Dad. That day was incredible because I spent it with the entire side of the family that I never get to see. The other half of me! I felt so complete. I cried and sang and drank all day. My Aunts brought me gifts that he’d been collecting for me over the years. I will never lose those precious gifts. I reconnected with cousins. I saw where my addictive personality came from.

My father survived a tumultuous life full of ups and downs. I know drugs are bad but I really hope that they gave him some relief and some momentary feelings of joy and apathy. I miss him. I still get severe twinges of jealousy when I meet “Daddy’s Girls”. That’s a feeling I’ll never know. But life is still full of hope and beauty and I look forward to seeing my father again one day.