I have his eyes.
I have his hands.
I have his freckles.
Biologically, it is unmistakable - I was his daughter.
And yet, he hasn't been my father for at least 20 years.
The why's and how's of who's to blame are a mute point now.
I remember him with little girl memories.
I remember loving him.
I remember missing him.
But I haven't been a little girl for a long, long, time.
So instead of the feeling, I have a memory of a feeling.
And that makes me sad.
I'm sad that we could never fix this chasm between absent father and abandoned daughter.
I'm sad that I didn't try harder.
I'm sad that you didn't either.
So this is goodbye from your little daughter.
I loved you daddy.