Daddy’s Girl: The Title I Craved But Never Got To Be Called
When mummy’s girl is all I am, and how I had to be strong like daddy
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” — I Corinthians 15:55 [KJV]
Losing a parent at a young age is a lot. A whole new world of murky waters. Things change, immediately, to accommodate the loss. You may be oblivious to most of these changes because you are young, but as you age, it stares you in the face. The questions flow unhindered. It builds up and explodes in anger.
Why? Why now? Why my family? Why my father/mother? He was not even old. She was so young. Why did he not fight to stay alive? Why did she not fight harder? Did he even love me? Did she think about me when she stopped fighting? Maybe I was not special enough. Maybe he left because I made him angry. But, what is death? Why do people die? How does it choose people? Why did it choose my family? Why did it have to take my dad/mum away from me? Why will I not see him/her again?
The questions run wild. From childhood to adolescence, to adulthood. Whenever I saw my neighbors’ children riding their bicycles, I remembered how ‘ol death has robbed me of my lessons. Whenever my friend’s dad carried her on his neck, it ignited my anger at death. Everyone called her daddy’s girl because she was their only daughter.
No one called me daddy’s girl. I was an only daughter too.
Instead, I was the firstborn. The older sister. I had to be there for my mum. I had to be there for my brothers. They are my world, so it was no bother. However, I had to understand things faster. Behave responsibly all the time. Always lead the way for my brothers to follow. My mum always said, “You have to show your brothers the way; they are watching you and will follow your footsteps.” Letting my hair down was almost taboo. I had to be uptight and upright. Front-facing all the time.
It may have been tough to follow, but I remain grateful. Now, I understand how it feels to be responsible for others. I have lived through protecting others. I have done well doing it. Now, I let my hair down as much as I want. I am happy, my brothers are, my mum is.
I have resented death for so long. I questioned it. Why did it leave me with so much to do? Death never responded to me. It answers to no one. So, I have taken it in good faith. I trudged in the past, but now there’s a spring in my step.
I hope you heal and find your rhythm too.
“To let go is to release the images and emotions, the grudges and fears, the clingings and disappointments of the past that bind our spirit.” — Jack Kornfield
Dear Diana C., thank you for being such a light.
In response to the prompt:
