The one that used to wait for you to get home from work every night, and yell your name as you walked in the door. The one who'd jump on your legs and make you carry her across the room? Not realizing how tired you were from being on the grind all day. Yet, you'd drag my little body like you just woke up; lifting each child-covered leg until the job was complete. Remember all those times you had to visit your clients - and leave us in the car to wait? We'd gripe and complain, not realizing that all that hustling was helping put food on the table every night. How you'd put your name on the birthday gifts Mom would buy - we'd giggle about how cheap you were, failing to notice the birthday cake and parties every year. Remember that?
Daddy's Little Girl got snatched away at twelve, when her innocence was stolen. The girl who came home was far from the one you used to know. "Why can't I go to that party?" Crying and complaining when she couldn't go out - not knowing about shootouts and kidnappers, rapists and gangs. Calling you overprotective, when all you wanted to do was keep her safe. Oh, if she would've listened to you more during those years - how better her life would've been. All the lectures she ignored, all the times she snuck out the house - all because of lost girls who had no one to say "NO!" I tried so hard to be those girls - they had all the fun! No father to tell them what to do, no man to stop them from partying, having sex, stealing. No one to tuck them in at night, take them on vacations - to care for them. We fought each other tooth and nail for so long - ignoring the love that was pouring down the drain. What time wasted.
Lost Girl turned into Young Woman, and you stuck by her side. The advice started making sense because she started listening. Realizing you watched her boyfriend so hard out of concern - where is he now? Sorry. All those times I stayed in and didn't party - how many of those girls came home with fight wounds? The nights when I couldn't sleep over their houses - how many of those girls came home with babies? How many went to jail, got burned, were killed? The home I called Alcatraz was actually a fortress of protection, shielding me from danger. You kept me there to keep me from the gritty, real, dirty world. I lived my life, but I learned so many valuable lessons because you force fed them. I respect that now.
Young Woman has a lot more growing to do, and you've let go of the reins and allowed her to live. No matter how far she goes, the memories travel with her. I'll never forget you trying to comb my hair in second grade, or the night you made oxtail with ketchup and water because Mom was out of town. I won't forget the weekends at the pier, when you'd drag us on your client visits and let us play by the shore. All those little things made us who we are, you played your part by accident sometimes - but the sentiment remains. Your presence created the respectable man and woman you see before you, and your wisdom continues in the footsteps of my little sister. We love you, and I'm just happy you were here. Not too many girls can say the same.
On that note - Happy Father's Day. I'll see you for dinner this weekend - just let me do the cooking.
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