YAC Story

Ruth Anne Natividad 15

February 25, 2010

Research

YAC Story

In My Father’s Love

Relationships are very dynamic and interesting. The one I’m particularly fond of is the relationship between a father and his daughter. There is just a sweet and special bond of tenderness between them.

Before I was born, my dad really wanted a baby girl. When my parents found out my mom was pregnant, Dad prayed so hard that God would bless them with a girl.

And then I was born. The baby girl my daddy always wanted. Georgiana Nelson. That’s where my story begins.

Ever since I was a little girl, Dad and I always have done memorable things together. We would go on outings to the beach or wash his truck or fix things around the house. I was my dad’s little helper.

“Daddy, can you come with me to throw the trash? But I’m tired. Can you give me a piggy back ride?”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Go get the trash.”

We headed out the back door and walked towards the dumpster around the corner from our house. Mom always asked me to take out the trash even though I really couldn’t have ever handled it by myself. Mom was wise like that. She knew it was bonding time with my dad.

“Daddy, thanks for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome. Go get ready for bed now. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Dad was my hero. In my eyes, he was everything I wanted to grow up to be: faithful, loving, and hardworking. He worked so hard to provide for our family. He loved my mother and he loved me.

My favorite thing to do with my dad was paint. Dad was always into art. He was the one who inspired me to start painting. We would spend hours in the backyard just painting together. Our favorite subject to paint was always my mom. My fondest memories were with Mom and Dad like that. I was their little girl.

Things changed as I got older. Priorities shifted. School took up more of my time. Art became an even bigger part of my life, and the part of my life I shared with my dad dwindled.

At the time, I didn’t know what was happening. Dad and I grew apart. I wasn’t at home as much, and Dad just seemed so distant. I also didn’t know how much his presence influenced me.

Eventually, I started realizing what was happening to us. Every time I looked for my dad, he wasn’t there. I didn’t even remember the last time I told my dad I loved him. All the time I used to spend with my dad was now spent at school and working on my artwork. It made me feel empty inside. I felt like I just let the sweet relationship with my dad die.

So I tried to fix things. Mom sometimes goes on business trips out of state, leaving Dad and me home. I thought this was an opportune moment to make up for lost time. I was so excited. I holed up in my room for a whole afternoon just planning for something Dad and I could do together.

When I was all done, I decided I would ask him if we could go out for lunch after church on Sunday. It was simple.

That evening I went up to my dad.

“Hey, Dad, do you think you and I could have lunch together this coming Sunday?”

“Sure, honey. That sounds good.”

Perfect. I was so happy! Now Dad and I had some time just for us to catch up.

Then came Sunday. Dad and I were in his truck driving home from church. We stopped at the intersection where he would have to decide either to turn left toward the way to the restaurant or to turn right towards our house. He turned right, and in that instant, my stomach dropped.

“Daddy? I thought we were going to have lunch?”

“No, we’re going home.”

“But, Dad, you said we were going to have lunch with me. Remember I asked you last Tuesday? Do you remember?”

“Oh, I was just kidding. We’re going home.”

Just kidding? What was that supposed to mean? I didn’t understand. I tried to hold the tears back. I was so excited to do spend time with my dad. I missed him, and I just wanted to know if I was still important to him. I just wanted to spend time with my daddy.

We did go home. I made my way to my room. I tried to act like everything was fine. I mean, it was just lunch anyway. It’s not a big deal.

But in reality, it was a big deal to me. Honestly, I didn’t really know why. It just really crushed my expectations. I finally realized our relationship was changing. I put effort into reversing that change, but I still got burned.

I sat on the floor of my room. Just sat there. My mind was racing trying to rationalize the way I felt. My mind was trying to convince my heart that I shouldn’t be hurt that we didn’t go out for lunch. I started crying. I was hurt.

I didn’t really know if Dad loved me. I know that sounds really bad, but hear me out. Oh, I knew he loved me, but I didn’t know if it was the “Oh, yeah…I love her because she’s my daughter.” kind. I wanted to know if Dad loved me like the “OH yes I LOVE her. She’s my daughter.” I didn’t know if anyone else had ever felt that way, or if this was just a father-daughter thing, but I know the hurt was real for me.

The phone rang. Reluctantly, I answered the phone. It was Mom. She could tell something was wrong, even though I tried to fake that I was fine. She is so my mom.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I didn’t want to tell her. I hate admitting that I’m so vulnerable when it comes to my dad. The distance between Dad and I hurt a lot. It was something I could hide though. I didn’t want to feel the pain. I didn’t want Mom and Dad to know that I was so hurt, so insecure. I pushed it to the back of my mind, trying to find other ways to suppress that hurt and to fill up the emptiness.

“Mama, I just hurt inside. What happened? I don’t understand. Dad and I used to be close. He used to actually make time for me. He would take me to work and buy special sweets just for me.”

“Oh Sweetie, I know these last few months have been hard for you. You’re growing up and your time has to go to so many other things. Your dad doesn’t necessarily know how to relate to you in the way you need,” she explained.

“But I just want him to be there for me. We don’t have to do all the things we used to do…I just want to know he’s there, Mama.”

“You need to talk to him. You need to let him know how you feel, Baby.”

So I decided I was going to talk to Dad. He had to leave the house to go to work, so I couldn’t just talk to him right then. I was going to take the bus to the nearest stop by our church for evening service. I got to the church early, so I could be there on time and still call my dad up. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse, dialed Dad’s number and waited for him to answer.

My heart was beating so fast. Would I hurt him when I tell him how I felt? I was scared. It felt as if my heart was being opened and was being probed with a very sharp, pokey stick. I didn’t want to tell my dad how I was feeling.

Today. Today, I finally faced the music. The heartache and pain that I’ve pushed away for all these months, I finally understood why I hurt so much. I never wanted to admit that I was insecure in Dad’s love.

“Hey, how are you?”

I heard my dad’s low, gravelly voice on the other end of the line. Despite how hurt I felt, just hearing his voice calmed me. It reassured me that everything was going to be ok.

“Um, I’m ok.”

“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

“Daddy, do you love me?”

There was a long pause. I started to sweat. What was he going to say?

“Do you even have to ask? Georgiana Nelson. You are my daughter. I do love you.”

My dad knows me too well.

“Daddy, do you love me? I’m serious.”

“Yes, I love you. Unconditionally.”

“Daddy, are you proud of me?”

“Yes, so much. It’s a privilege to be your dad. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to question my love anymore. I’m your dad. I will always love you. No matter if we spend time together or not, you will always be my little girl.

Tears ran down my face in torrents. I sniffed and tried to pull myself together. This is what reconciliation feels like. This is what healing feels like. This is what it feels like to be loved.

“Thanks, Daddy. That means a lot.”

And in that moment, I knew. I knew that the bond I have with my dad, just being his daughter tied us together far deeper than I will ever know. I may grow up and things my change, but I knew right then that I will always rest peacefully in my father’s love.