tell the old man that i love him.

i often remember the man who raised me as a shadow; a dark figure who went from my nightmares to my reality.  he wasn't always my boogeyman - i remember one time that he drank pretend tea that i poured in his cup.  i think i was 4 years old.

so i would venture to say that freddy krueger wasn't always everyone's nightmare on elm street.  he may have been a seemingly normal man at some point, but that just isn't how we remember him.

the first time he hit me i was 8 years old.  i can still feel the cold kitchen floor beneath my feet & smell the fresh spring air outside.  i can see the look on his face, plain as day, & hear the disgust in his voice.

i called my freddy krueger 'dad' & waking up from a dream didn't erase him from my world.  growing up in that world wasn't always easy.  johanna was sick & mom was her healthcare warrior so i stayed home with dad...a lot.  i was dad's little girl by default & as little girls do, all i wanted was for him to love me.

so i hugged the cactus i called dad & i learned that love hurts.
love is mean.  love is ugly.  love is selfish.

& then jay miller found us.


never-wanted-kids-tough-as-nails jay miller became step-dad to a pair of 13 year old damaged girls;  two broken, unloved & lost teenagers.  he had his hands full & we had no idea what we were in for.

it wasn't always easy, being a step-anything is difficult but i've learned that sometimes it can be the most rewarding job.  i cautiously learned about him & listened to his wisdom.  he slowly learned how to be a dad - setting curfews & drying tears.

          he emptied his train room so i could have a place to lay my head at night.

          when i got pneumonia he spent at least $200 on my medications.

          he learned how to make my favorite after school snack.

          he scared away all the boys i wanted to date.

          he'd hand me his last $20 if i asked nicely & smiled really sweet.

& over time i realized that this is what daddies are supposed to do.  having a daddy shouldn't hurt.

all little girls have a father.  not all little girls have a daddy & my daddy walked into my world when i was 13 & i've never been the same.

i often feel guilty.  its not my cross to bare, but i can't help it.  i just feel guilty.  he was robbed, my daddy was robbed.

daddy & me.  2009.

he didn't get to hold me on the day i was born, wrapped in a pink blanket & crying.  he wasn't there when i got my first tooth or when i learned how to walk.  he never saw me play dress-up or pretend to be a princess.  my daddy didn't teach me how to ride a bike.  he wasn't there to kiss my knee the first time i scraped it.  he'll never know what it feels like to hold my tiny, 3 year old hand in his as we cross the street.  he wasn't there to tell me how pretty i looked when i got into mom's make-up.  he didn't take me trick-or-treating & he didn't put that swing set together in the backyard.  he never danced with me to the song on the radio.

he missed all the fun of having children; the growing up part.  he knows the woman i am today, but he doesn't know the little girl i used to be.

all the things a daddy should get to do were stolen from him.

& i'm going to spend my life wearing a face that resembles the man who hurt me.  i want my daddy's blue eyes.  i want his crooked nose.  he's written all over my heart, but no one can see it on my face.  i would proudly resemble that man, but i wasn't given the choice.

so i fill out medical history forms and when they ask about the paternal side of my family i have to think about it twice.  father is blood.  daddy is everything else.

daddy is the man who taught me how to change a spare tire.  he's the man who taught me how to drive.  he was there for my prom, to tell me how pretty i looked.  he packed up all my crap & moved me on campus for my freshman year of college.  he bought all those medications when i was sick & he didn't care about a price tag.  he's the man who insisted on shaking hands with any teenage guy who came to his front door to take me out.  he rescues me from mechanics who try to swindle me into spending thousands of dollars.  he fixes the trinkets that i could easily fix myself because i ask him to.  he drove a u-haul 1,000 miles because i wanted to live in arkansas.  he answers the phone & talks to me for hours when i'm heartbroken & crying.  he's gone to bat for me more times than i can count.  he's shown me what i'm worth.  he teaches me about life & love.

dad & his daughters.  thanksgiving 2012.

& he's wrapped around me & johanna's little fingers.
we may not have put the sun in his sky, but i'm sure we're the light of his life.

& i have his temper.
& his impatience.
& his weird sense of humor.
& i drive my honda like its a race car.

so when my world is falling to pieces he's the man i call.
he's the man who can piece my heart back together with his super glue & his welder.

he's the man who never had to love me.

so when he doesn't respond to my text message or answer his phone i simply text my mom:

"tell the old man that i love him"

because love is the least i can do for the daddy that he didn't have to be.