Fragments of Absence: A Daughter's Journey Through Grief

 

 

    I’ve had my own fair share of love and loss in my lifetime, one of which was losing my father at a young age. I never got to know him, and growing up without his presence shaped a significant part of who I am today. I wasn't very fond of the pitying gazes that came my way, the stares, and the judgments people made when they realized I was half an orphan. Sure, he was gone, but three-year-old me didn’t understand that. My grandmother often tells me how I reacted on the day of his burial. She said that when they were lowering the casket, I stopped them and said, 'Why are you lowering my Daddy into the ground? He’s just sleeping!' They didn’t know how to react; they found it funny at first but then realized the weight of the moment—that I would grow up without him. 

    Growing up I often heard people say that knew my father, and how it was such a waste that I didn't get to know him. They always told me how much I looked like him and how similar we behaved, from my little quirks and habits. It often made me feel suffocated because when I got a bit older, it made me feel like I was trapped in a sob story I never wanted to be in. Though as years passed by I've learned to live with it, but somewhere in the back of my head I know I have just been avoiding feeling depressed over it.

    Losing someone changes you. It makes you into someone you never thought you could be. When my father died, my mom changed, my grandmother changed, hell, even some neighbors in our subdivision changed, even if they didn't know him that well—but that three-year-old me never did. That three-year-old me was too young to understand what happened or even question why she couldn't play with her dad anymore. I don't even remember him, but somehow I'm stuck here missing someone I never got the chance to know.

    It's especially hard during family events at school; I stuck out like a sore thumb, standing there without anyone beside me because Mom had to go abroad and, well, surprise, I didn't have a dad. I envied my cousins, my friends, and even my schoolmates growing up because they were happy and complete. Every time I saw a child with their father, I questioned why I couldn't have that. I was angry at the world, wondering what was so wrong with me that I couldn't have him in my life.

    I grew sick of hearing the same thing over and over: 'God always takes good people first.' I resented that he was so kind to everyone but not to us. I questioned late at night why he had taken my father from me so early, why he couldn't have done it years later. I felt bitter and it felt so unfair, it was like the whole world was against me. I couldn't be with him and share the special moments I was supposed to have with him. I was stuck with his photos and other people's memories and stories of him. The pain of missing out on his love and guidance haunted me. It took me a long time to come to terms with my feelings, and even now, the questions sometimes creep back in, reminding me of how much impact his absence has had on my life.

    As time passed, I realized that even though his absence was painful, his spirit still lives on within me. I've learned to smile when someone reminisces about how similar we are. I honored his wishes and changed my nickname to Sam because that was what he wanted. I've learned to honor his memory in my own way, cherishing the glimpses I have of him through stories and photographs.

    While I may never fully understand why our lives took such a drastic turn, I can say that it made us grow stronger. Though he may not be with us physically anymore, I feel his presence guiding me and protecting me from above. I hope I've made him proud by continuing his legacy and living my life to the fullest. And while the thought of him still pains me at times, it gets better because I know he wouldn't want me to be sad. In a way, his absence has shaped me into someone who values every moment and every connection, understanding that life's fragility makes each day a precious gift to be treasured.

Listening to this song makes me miss him more