Daddy's Little Girl

Every little girl has a desire to be "Daddy's little girl."  You want to be protected and guided and to be the light of your Father's eye.  I see a lot of my friends who have strong fathers who love and protect them and who try to guide them in their decisions. They try to mold them into fine young ladies who are independent enough to survive on their own but soft enough to let someone in to help share their lives.  I think that is a quality I envy most.  I of course had a father but mine was not a typical circumstance.  My father was married to someone else when my mother became pregnant with me.  My mother was unaware of his marriage at the time but she decided to make the best of the situation after she knew.  My father was a truck driver and often traveled quite a lot.  I was told he came to visit almost every day from the time I was born until I was about 7 months old.  My mother said he even called me "Daddy's little girl" and seemed to be so proud.  I don't know what happened to make him have less frequent visits after that.  Throughout the time I was growing up I hardly ever saw my father. I only remember twice when I did see him.  I do however remember him calling.  At first I would talk to him and let him know what was going on in my life at that time.  He would always ask how I was and then he would want to speak to my mother.  I eventually stopped answering the phone when he called because I didn't think he was interested and was only calling to speak to my mother.  I started having a lot of anger towards him.  I wanted him to be around to teach me things and to get to know him.  People that knew him always told me how much I looked like him.  That even made me angry.  I thought "How come they get to know that I look like him but I don't get to see it?"  My mother being the sweet woman she was always told me I should not be so angry with my father, that I needed to try to understand and give him a chance.  I would just think why should I give someone a chance who never gave me one?  I tried several times to contact him.  I sent a letter and made several phone calls, only to be rejected every time. I finally quit trying and just let the anger build and build.  My father became very ill in 1998.  He was hospitalized several times but I never had the opportunity to go see him because his family would be there and they wouldn't allow it.  Plus I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to go.  In January of 1999 I got a call from my older sister who was working as an EMT at the local hospital.  She said my dad was there and had taken a turn for the worse.  She said he wanted to see me and that his family had gone home for the night so it shouldn't be a problem for me to come.  The problem was I still had so much built up anger that I really didn't want to go.  My mother was devastated that my father was so ill and pleaded with me to go.  She said she didn't want something to happen to him and me to have regrets for not going.  I said I would go but I was only going to let him know how angry I had been and how much he hurt me by not being around.  I was nervous but when I walked into the room I was floored.  I finally saw what everyone had always told me.  I did look so very much like him.  I have his eyes, his nose, the shape of his lips.  Our smile is practically the same.  He immediately started to cry.  He told me how much he had thought of me over the years.  He said he had so many regrets for not being the Father I deserved and needed him to be.  He didn't offer excuses, just regret for his actions.  He also told me that he had accepted Jesus as his savior and that helped him see how wrong he had been.  Although I always had so much anger and resentment for him not being there, at that very moment it didn't seem to matter.  To me that was the precious time I always longed to have with him.  It was an hour of honesty and true emotion that I consider a priceless treasure.  My father died 2 months after that visit.  I never got to see him again.  I do consider it a blessing that God allowed the time and that He changed my mind when I walked into that hospital room.  Although I still look back over my life and miss having my father be a part of it, I am thankful for the lesson.  God taught me to be forgiving and has helped me move past it.  I don't have much left of my father, except his eyes and his smile, but I do have the knowledge that he is in Heaven and one day we will get to finally know each other.