Saying Goodbye

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.