I am the oldest. That in its self should say alot. I lost my Father October 10 2009. I watched him take his last breaths... as tears began to drip down my face I realized one thing. Daddy was never gonna come.
As the oldest daughter of 4.... 3 of which are girls I can safely say I feel utterly lost but dont show it.
When my mother and father had me at 20 and 21 They were amazed to find a redhead, brown eyed 9 pound bundle of joy. Yay that was me and I am sure they loved me. 13 months later my little Blonde haired blue eyed brother made an appearence. 15 months later a little strawberry, blue eyed girl arrived and 14 months after that a blonde,blue eyed girl arrived.
By the time my youngest sister arrived my parents were headed towards seperation and 3 years later divorce.
After their divorce my mom eventually went one way and
and my dad went another. Sadly both directions went
away from us.
Me, Great-grandma and baby sis
I used to stare at my dad, he was handsome and had brown eyes like me. I used to day dream that he would scoop me up and call me his princess. If he was upset with me I would instantly be in tears because I never wanted to dissapoint him. I had faint memories of when he was happy and would play with me. The first time my dad hit me out of anger I was 4. After the divorce his anger grew and so did his abuse. Thankfully My grand parents (not pictured) were our primary care takers and I only knew his anger in spurts.
As I grew so did my need for his love but it began to manifest in other ways. I seem to fail my dad every where I turned. I wasn't pretty enough with my red hair and brown eyes. I wasn't skinny enough with my weight I gained after the dicorce. I wasn't strong enough not to not cry when he yelled at me.
When I grew into a teenager I was beyound hope. I was a drop out. I had no future and my endless search for love left me in despair.
My dad was gifted, he had amazing talents. He could sing and write music. When he played the piano I would feel his own pain through the music. My dad could only say I love you after he was falling down drunk. My dad never got over my brothers death and never let his daughters forget they were not good enough.
My dad was always the child and I was the Adult. 17 was the last time my dad ever hit me. No one ever hit me again. My dad was sorry for his mistakes but unable to get over his own past and bitter life.
As an adult I was amazed how much I still wanted that Daddy experience but learned to just be grateful for what he could give. Like when he held my son and tried to for a moment to be a grandpa. My father suffered 5 heat attacks by the age of 47. He lived a hard,fast,life and it was only at the end that he slowed down enough to begin to open up.
A month before he died he was in the hospital and we hadn't spoken in a year. I walked in and as always was in instant tears. He rolled his eyes, but in a knowing this a woman emotion thing way. He said we didn't need to talk about it and that was that. We both knew what that meant. I am so grateful for the last few moments I had with him.
He was transfered to a Hospice while I was visiting family in Phoenix. I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I came to see him. The man that had always been so strong,like a rock was vanished before my eyes. I barely recgonized him as he lay there moaning,half of his body weight gone. I rushed to his side and he saw me. I knew then that My Dad loved me. My dad wasn't able to say one word to me but it was o.k we didn't need to talk about it. He saw my son and I held him close to his chest so my dad could hold him. I never let go of his hand. My husband left with my son and I stayed by his side.
During the night I would jump up from the pull out Couch when ever he would make a noise. I felt like our roles had been completely reversed. He was the helpless infant and I the attentive parent. My dad and I had one last moment during the night. He woke up Moaning and I rushed to his side. He saw me clearly one last time and as best as he could motioned me to hug him. He held tight and went back to sleep. All the next day my dad never saw me again. I still talked to him but he never saw me. My sisters arrived in the evening more prepared then I was to see my dad. For 20 minutes I sat with my dad while they sang. When the stopped singing the last song my Dad moved foward and took his last breaths. My sisters ran to his side and pleaded with him to stay. He however took one last breath and that last breath there was a smile on his lips for us.
When my Dad died I not only mourned the loss of what was ...but what could of been. The last moments with him I will cherish because it was the first time I knew with out a doubt he loved me. To say that I didn't day dream about him holding his now grown up daughter and calling her his princess I would be lying. However my dad did teach me important lessons in his own way. He was not a good Dad but he could of been. He was still my dad and I will miss him. God only knows the struggles my dad the man had, he was haunted by his own demons. In the end God gave my father Peace and he died with compassion. My father made soo many mistakes, hurt me so many times. However when he needed us the most we were there and I thank God for that. I thank God he didn't die alone and that I finally have peace.
Daddy your in Heaven now. All your pain and tears are gone. Dont worry about me I know that God will take care of me and my sisters. I forgave you and I love you. I cant wait to see you and Mark Daniel one day.. just not too soon. One day when I am in heaven I look foward to running into you arms and really being your little princess. I love you Daddy.
MARK STUART VALENTINE 03/12/1962-10/10/09
