Felt so weird waking up on my birthday and he wasn’t standing by our bedroom door. Dad wasn’t a morning person but on birthdays he’d be up before the sun. Never used to make a big deal about my birthday but his child like excitement was contagious. He celebrated my birthday better than I could. It was a bigger deal than his own.
The only person that genuinely celebrated my existence. A man that loved fearlessly and unashamedly. Protected me with his life. When everybody else had nothing good to say about me, he listened. He didn’t think I was paranoid or crazy and neither did he get tired of being there for me.
Can’t begin to count the number of times he picked me up from the floor. He saw something in me that I could not. Over estimated my abilities. In retrospect, he kept me going cause haven’t been able to do anything right since he passed. I can’t get up. Can’t move. Can’t see anything past today. The one who believed in me is gone and his voice isn’t there to drown out the infidels.
Too many of my life goals were based on me proving to him that all these years of defending me weren’t in vain. Daddy went all in on the least likely to win. Risked everything. Loved me enough for everybody that didn’t. He was present when most were absent. No shots fired, just facts stated and unadulterated gratitude inferred.
The only father I had died.