Daddy's Girl

Let me first explain why I am purposely using the term “Daddy” versus “Father.” And this is just my own personal opinion. A father is someone who believes that by donating his sperm for your creation, he has done his duty in life. A dad is someone who gets up every day and does whatever he can to put a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food on your table. He might have to dig ditches, flip hamburgers, deliver pizzas, work in a factory — or all of the above. He might not own a suit and tie. He teaches the value of hard work not because he’s looking for help mowing the lawn, but because he knows idleness leads to trouble. He realizes his job is to make his children productive citizens, and to do that, he can’t always be his child’s friend. A “daddy” is a man who steps up to be there, no matter what, in a very special way. He does not solely donate sperm or simply raise productive citizens. A “daddy” actively participates in his daughter’s life. He attends her sporting events, recitals, and concerts. A “daddy” is the first man to teach his daughter what it is to be special. He is the first man to recognize and acknowledge both her inner and outer beauty. He is the first man to believe in her and to help her believe in herself. He sets the bar against which every man in her life, thereafter, will be measured. Before my daddy walked me down the aisle, he said to me, “Remember, nobody will ever love you like your Daddy.” And in many ways, he was right.

Men, seemingly, have no idea how important it is to be a good daddy to their daughters. It’s not solely about providing food, clothes, and shelter. It goes a helluva lot deeper than that. Our daddies are our first “boyfriends.” Daddies are supposed to teach us how valuable we are and set the standard for how a man is supposed to treat us. A daddy’s love for his daughter, or lack thereof, has the capacity to empower or destroy a little girl and the woman she will become. If you didn’t know that before, now you do. Daddies are important, especially in the lives of little black girls.

I am simply devastated by the number of women I have seen professionally, and met socially, that tell the story of “looking for love in all the wrong places” because their daddy was either physically absent, intoxicated, emotionally unavailable, or a combination of all three. Our daddies are the first men who tell us that we are pretty. They are the first men to say,” I love you.” They are the first men who look at us dreamily. They are the first men to hold our hands. Daddies are the first men with whom we laugh, with whom we have fun, and with whom we feel “special.”

My daddy and I watched cartoons and ate Fruit Loops together every Saturday morning. My daddy taught me how to read when I was four years old from a book titled, “Joey’s Horse.” My daddy was my soccer coach from age 6 to 14. In high school, he forced the school to let me play on the boys’ varsity team because the school did not have a girls’ varsity team. He was at every game. I remember one game in which I had the wind knocked out of me by a hard-kicked soccer ball. My coach took me out of the game and had me laying on the sideline with my knees up trying to catch my breath. When, I heard my daddy’s voice, I realized that he was standing near my head asking my coach, “Why is Renee out of the game?” My coach replied, “She got the wind knocked out of her, Mr. Godfrey, and I didn’t want her to get hurt any worse.” My daddy chuckled slightly and got the sly grin on his face that he always gets when he thinks he knows something you don’t. He said, “Hurt? She’s not hurt. She’s as tough as, if not tougher than, these boys out here. Now, she wanted to play with the boys, so let her play with the boys. She’ll be fine.” My coach then asked my daddy, “Are you going to take responsibility if she gets injured?” My daddy replied, “Yes, because I know she can hold her own.” My coach looked disbelieving and said, “This is not Little League; and as her coach, I have to do what I think is best for her and the team.” Before my daddy turned to walk away, he said, “Coach, I have been her coach since she first began the sport and I have been her father since the day she came into this world. I know my little girl and she’s tougher than you think. Put her back in [the game].” Then, my daddy reached down, took my hand, and pulled me up to a standing position. He looked me straight in the eye, cracked that unique smile of his, and said, “Now, get out there and show those boys how it feels to get their asses kicked by a girl.” Although I didn't play soccer through college, I did play as an adult in the Georgia Amateur Association. And again, my daddy was at every game. He was my number one soccer fan.

Most of the time, my daddy made me feel like I could do anything. He was my knight in shining armor. He could do no wrong. And then he left. When I was 13, he walked out of the door and out of my life. I waited by the window all night, crying & begging him to please come back. After he married my stepmother, and had my half-brother, his focus changed. I no longer felt “special.” I no longer felt loved. I felt abandoned by the one man in my life who, I thought, believed in me & would have my back. I felt like I had been fired from my position of “daddy’s girl.” My relationship with my daddy was never the same after he left and started his “new family.” I was never the same after my daddy left. My heart was broken like it would never be broken again. As Daddy’s little girl, I had lost my first love. And I started to believe that if my daddy - the one man who is supposed to love me - didn't love me, then nobody else would either. It created an emptiness that I eventually learned no one else could fill. Over the next 10 years, my daddy and I had a very rocky relationship. What made that 10 years even harder was the fact that I still loved my daddy like I’ve never loved anyone. And all I wanted was for him to love me too. So, my goal in life became to make my daddy proud – to prove that I was [good] enough for him to love me again. To this day, I am not sure if I accomplished that goal. However, I did reach another goal that had been buried in my subconscious, I guess – I came to a place of understanding and forgiveness.

In my early 20s, my daddy explained to me that my stepmother was the absolute love of his life – his true soulmate. He explained that as much as he hated the way he left and hated that my little brother and I got hurt in the process, he felt like that might be his only chance to be genuinely happy. I understood his reasoning and respected his honesty. I realized that one day, all the kids would be gone, and my daddy would be left with his spouse. So, of course, I wanted him to be happy just like he wanted me to be happy. I couldn't deny him that; so, I forgave him for walking out on us.

Now, 20 years later, an oncologist has suggested that my daddy has an “average” of 55 months to live with combination chemo/hormone therapy, 40 months with hormone therapy alone, and 18 months with severe pain with no treatment at all. WTF?! This is MY DADDY! And the tears started rolling and haven't stopped since. In fact, I can only get through about 2 sentences at a time as I write this blog post before my emotions become overwhelming. We all know that we are going to die. We all know that one day we are going to lose our parents. But we think of that time in a vague, abstract sense, not in terms of a finite number. As a therapist, I remind people all the time to live their lives to the fullest, to create good memories with those they love, to say “I love you” and “I’m sorry” today, and to not ever take time for granted. Now, I have been slapped in the face with my own accountability.

Have I lived my life to the fullest? Has my daddy? Have I created good memories with my daddy? Have I said “I love you” enough? Have I ever said “I’m sorry?” Have I taken our time together for granted? This incurable diagnosis has shaken me to my core and has me taking a real inventory of my own life and my relationship with my daddy. So, these are the thoughts that have come to mind so far:

1. My daddy is the absolute love of my life and I can’t imagine life without him.

2. My daddy has a dry sense of humor that is hilarious.

3. My daddy is not perfect, but he is mine.

4. My daddy taught me the joy of reading and encouraged my love of learning.

5. My daddy bought me an inflatable swimming pool when I was a little girl that had a palm tree in it, and it was the best inflatable pool on the block.

6. My daddy doesn’t talk about his feelings, so I am concerned about his journey through this cancer fight.

7. I don’t like it when my daddy doesn’t feel good. As a nurse, however, I know that bone cancer is incredibly painful and I know that chemotherapy wipes people out – making them nauseous, extremely tired, and even shutting down their tastebuds so food tastes like nothing. So, I don’t want him in pain, but I also don’t want him sick or exhausted.

8. I hope my daddy has no regrets and can truly enjoy the rest of his time here no matter how much time that is.

9. I hope my daddy is proud of me.

10. I hope I have been a good daughter in my daddy’s eyes.

11. I need to visit my daddy more often.

12. I need to call and text my daddy more often.

13. I need to take more pictures with my daddy.

14. I need to record my daddy’s voice so I will never forget it.

15. My daddy gives great hugs.

16. My daddy always gives good advice and I always know that I can go to him for objectivity.

17. My daddy always puts on a strong face no matter what is going on in his life; and as much as I know he doesn’t like tears; I don’t know that I will be able to control mine. At the same time, I know I must.

18. At least God has given me time to make some new memories with my daddy.

19. My daddy taught me how to ride a bike.

20. My daddy invited me to a bar on my 21st birthday and introduced me to Patron tequila which I still love to this day.

21. My daddy only spanked me one time in my life – when I drew all over the walls, that my daddy had just painted, with a big, purple crayon - and I think it hurt him just as much as it hurt me.

22. My daddy taught me to cook soul food.

I’m sure more memories, concerns, thoughts, smiles, laughs, and tears will come. And I know all my memories are not good. My daddy has hurt me in the past; but knowing that I am going to lose him - this time forever - is the worst hurt ever in life. So, I choose to focus on the good and happy moments and to create more of them. I encourage all of you other “daddy’s girls” out there to cherish every moment with your daddy. Let him know, TODAY, how much being his little girl has meant to you. Let your daddy know that you love him, forgive him, miss him, need him, or whatever. Share your favorite memory, of the two of you together, with him. If your daddy is alive, it is not too late. And don’t ever apologize for being a daddy’s girl! Feel free to share your comments about your experience as a daddy’s girl.