Photo by Bruce Hong on Unsplash

I have never been a daddy’s girl. Well to be honest, this wasn’t really a thing in the generation I grew up in. Our parents were no nonsense – no mollycoddling and barely an attempt to see their kids as more than a passing nuisance. All through my teens and well into my 20s, I barely had a relationship with my dad.

That changed the day he became my personal guardian angel. First it was just a voice in my head. Then it was a fiery calling in my heart. And then one day there he was. No longer a fleeting shadow or desert mirage. No longer my (super) suggestive imagination which can create stories out of virtually anything. No longer the gentle whisper in the darkness that illuminated my way. No longer a giant chip on my shoulder that I could brush off with logic.

Real flesh and bones. I always wanted to say that.

Seriously. It defied reason and human understanding. But yet there he was, just strolling around like he owned the place. Appearing just when I asked a question. Annoyingly, always having the answer. That’s how I knew it was him by the way. Know it all in life and death. Some things just don’t change.

And so began our chats. Initially sporadic but soon we were meeting daily. Turns out he had some big plans and he conveniently thought that it was a better idea to grab some wings and leave all the legwork to me. It was intimidating, more so coz his shoes are literally twice my foot. Wait, more than twice.

Giant shoes aside I was up for the task. No way was I going to walk away from a chance to redeem myself. Did I mention I love a good tough challenge? Well, as it turns out my redemption was not what he was interested in.

You see, when I was 10 years old, my daddy saw me on a stage. A very large one if I may add or so it seemed to my tiny frame at the time. He saw me, really saw me. He saw my light. He saw what I could be and he knew that he had to protect that light with his life. And protect it he did. Nurtured it with tough love. Ok he might have gone a little overboard with this one.

He made sure I was ready and then like a good parent, kicked me out of the nest and proceeded to watch me try out my new wings. As I write this he is staring out at the trees with a bemused look.

In death my daddy gave me what he could not in life. He made me a daddy’s girl.

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