Where Did You Go, Dad? September 19, 2024

You were the first man I ever loved. Although it was unbreakable, that love wasn’t always easy, even if it was between a father and his daughter.

You were the first man I ever loved. Although it was unbreakable, that love wasn’t always easy, even if it was between a father and his daughter. Now that you’ve departed this world, I realize that every moment I shared with you, no matter the circumstance, was sacred. You were my dad, and I was your little girl, and that bond would never breach, not even in death.

I grew up a very nervous kid, perpetually teetering on the edge of anxiety. Eternally anticipating the next shoe to crash onto the landscape of my fragile world, it was a challenge to calm myself, barely seizing fleeting glimpses into the uncomplicated childhood realms so many kids seemed to relish so freely. Even in the ephemeral moments I gained access into the coveted innocence of naivety, I always felt different, like I just didn’t belong.

A defining experience that ushered in that tsunami of dissimilarity occurred when I was about four years old. You and mom parted ways, dissolving my tenuous world even further. On what appeared to be a normal day, I came home, and to my surprise, you weren’t there. I was told, “We didn’t think you’d understand.”

In that moment, I lost my innocence and trust. In my infantile brain, I believed this dissolution was my fault, that I did something wicked to trigger this major injustice. I blamed myself. I was adrift in a whirlwind of tumultuous emotion, now finding it next to impossible to trust I would never get abandoned again.

This fear shadowed me into relationships with friends, and men as subconsciously I would hunt for the most emotionally unavailable guy I could find. In every man, I searched for you. I craved the bad boy, the party boy, and the wild one who always found ways to push the boundaries of life. I even learned to abandon myself. I was always amazed at how much you changed through the years as you transformed into someone so wise, unassuming, composed and peaceful. You became the calm in my crazy.

It’s remarkable to think how one event can transform a life. I know you and mom never planned the fallout that occurred. I recognized you both loved me and did the best you could with what you had at the time. When we know better, we do better. Through it all, I never stopped loving you, but somewhere in my little psyche, I think I was afraid you had stopped loving me. Even though you never left my life, it still wasn’t the same.

Now that I’m a parent, I undeniably empathize with the dread surrounding difficult conversations, especially when unearthing the proper words to cushion the blows of life is next to impossible. Even though those exchanges are at best unnerving, they still unquestionably need to happen. As parents, with the best intentions, we strive to shield our children from the harsh realities of life, but many times, that causes more harm than good.

Although it was over four decades ago, I still can recall the heartache that little girl suffered as her world collapsed. I wanted my Daddy. I needed you, and with no warning, you were gone from my daily life. Your presence was so charismatic and brilliant that the house now seemed so hollow.

I missed playing with you. I yearned for your hugs and kisses that would flow freely, but now I had to wait to savor them. I craved your presence, and a part of me was always awaiting the day you would come home. Now that you’ve departed from this life, I still feel like that little girl waiting for you to return. I still search for you in every face I see. Where did you go, Dad?

When I finally found the courage to tell Nico he wouldn’t be seeing you any longer, his tiny three-year-old body trembled with emotion, tears streaming down his little rosy cheeks, red from bawling, and his beautiful face was crushed with sadness. He wailed uncontrollably that he wanted to see you.

Doubting his little mind could grasp the concept of death, I told him that you went to live in the clouds, and that anytime he wished to talk to you, to look up at the sky. He begged me to tell him that one day you would come down from the clouds to be with him. “Mama, please tell me that Pa will come down from the clouds to be with me. Please, Mama, please,” he implored, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

Part of me wanted to tell him what he desperately begged to hear and shield him from this devastating reality that was crushing us all, then I remembered what protecting a child from the truth did to me. It was a grueling conversation I didn’t want to have, but I told him the truth. “No, I’m sorry baby, but Pa won’t be seeing you again.”

After that ruthless conversation with my son, I even convinced myself that you went to live in the clouds. The reality is, I don’t know where you are, but I need to imagine your spirit is somewhere that I can see. I still gaze at the clouds, aching to see you. I would be soothed with just a simple wave and a blown kiss from the heavens, just to know you’re okay even if we couldn’t talk. Just knowing I could still see you would be enough, but I never do. The clouds will have to be enough. Where did you go, Dad? Where did you go?