Blue. Underneath the windblown dust was the color of my car - blue. Navy with a hint of sparkle if I need to be exact. There are few events which take place in our lives that re-shape who we are as human beings. Washing my car on August 13th of 2010 became one of those rare instances.
I hate washing my car. It's not that I find the task tedious but rather that I am not very good at car-washing. But in the days leading up to that weekend I felt the need to wash my car. Saturday arrived and I woke up early to shop. More specifically, I went to Auto Zone. It was imperative I invest in proper washing materials. I went and came and began to empty out my mess.
I had books, shoes, clothes, boxes, food and lots of paper mixing around from the front to the back. The trunk, the trunk was filled with useless items that no longer fit in my closet. The sun was beaming, it was burning on my back. But for some reason I felt happy.
I felt a happiness that at the moment seemed inexplicable. My life seemed so, well, perfect. I understand there is no such thing as perfection; I deem it a fallacy. But for those few hours that Saturday morning, I felt pretty darn close.
Then my phone rang. And my heart broke, forever.
To identify myself as a daddy's girl is inadmissible.
In twenty five years of age, I have never known what my real father's favorite meal is. I do not know what size of shoe he wore. But I know he loved me. I know that in his absence, he thought about me every single minute of the day. I know this because it is what my heart taught me.
I am severely heartbroken. I write this now because I can no longer keep it deep inside me. This is me. It is who I am. So here I am with you tonight, sharing...
I'd be lying if I don't admit I often wish I could go back and somehow prevent what would happen.
I spent much of my life as the one searching for my dad; always looking him up and calling him. When my phone rang, I would forever remain searching for him.
Missing. Gone. Not found. Lost. We haven't seen him in a week... and still cannot find him. That's all I heard before my phone hit the floor.
From birth, the body is predisposed to dying. Death is inevitable. I understand this concept. What breaks my heart is not that my father is gone. I am heartbroken because I don't know. I don't know if he lived in torture or in pain. I don't know if he was or is still hungry. I don't know where he is or have a place to mourn his body. All I want is to have him back. To know where he is.
I am not angry with God. I am not angry with man. I have forgiven whoever took him away from me. But I am in deep pain to know that for the rest of my life, I will forever still be searching.
It's almost as if I never really had him .
I miss our few, but beloved conversations. I miss seeing him in person. I miss him entirely. Te estrano papi.
It has been a constant struggle to move forward because I do not know how. I put a smile on my face, lift my head up high and pray for strength every single second of the day. The latter part of my 2010 Wedding Season was so difficult to endure. Watching the Father-Daughter dance always brought me to tears. I do not know how I made it through those weddings with complete sanity. But today I am still lost inside. I want peace so bad but my heart is still aching.
But above all, I praise God. He must have sent my stepdad my way twenty years ago because he knew I would need him. And I do. He has stepped in to become my dad more than ever. I hope my father is proud.
God blessed me with two very different men to be my father. For many years I wondered why my dad had left me. Why I had to search for him. Why he never called me. Why I could love a man so much yet never really know him.
Then I reflect on the love I felt from him. He was never really there, he isn't now and he will probably never be. But I am forever his daughter and he is forever my dad. And I love him.
I am finally ready to move on. To let the pain go and make him proud.
Pray for me friends, please.