My blue eyes gaze out the window as each raindrop plops down. I see dark gray clouds covering the beautiful morning sky and blocking out the warm rays of the sun. I have tried to keep nothing going on in mind. Many people find this weather depressing and boring, but I see it differently. To me, rain symbolizes peace. There is nothing going on and nothing to disturb me. I lay down and try not to think about it. It’s today. As I try not to think, it gets harder and harder to keep it out of my head. Eight years ago today is the day her father died. I’ve been told that my father was an amazing man, but how would I know? Man, I wish I could see him again, just one last time, but it’s over. I was just four-years-old when her father had passed away from a heart attack, I haven’t really learned about him that much. It was a long time ago, but I can replay the day he left me and my mother in her head all the time.
Daddy scanned through his newspaper as he kicked back in his chair in the kitchen, sipping his hot coffee. If I could go back in time and tell my daddy that I loved him so much and he was the best dad in the world, I would do it in a heartbeat. Mommy drove me to preschool that day and she was in a happy with a grin on her face as always. She walked me in, I said goodbye and that was it. That day was going pretty well up until it was time to go home. My mom picked me up and I could just tell that something was wrong by the tears welling up in her eyes. Her mascara was running down on her cheeks and her hair was out of place. Something was wrong. She looked at me straight in the eyes and told me, “Honey, I really don’t know how to tell you this, but--” She wiped her tears away, “Daddy passed away this morning after you left. I’m so sorry sweetie, I wish I could do something about it, but there’s nothing in the world I can do to bring daddy back.” I was feeling so many things I don’t have any words to describe it. I was sad, yet mad, I felt like I was going to throw up, I was confused, and mostly, I was alone. The wet, salty tears streamed down my face as I sat in the car. Staring out the window with tons and tons of thoughts made me realize life was going to be completely different from now on.
Gosh if my daddy was here today, my life wouldn’t be the same at all. Everyday I wake up with an empty feeling as if I am missing a piece of a puzzle. Mom has tried to find another man to take my dad’s place, but she knows that no one can. If only I could know him longer, that would be amazing. My mind tells me nothing will can solve my problem, but my heart says anything is possible. I think I would have a better life if my father was here-- no money problems, no loneliness, no depression, but it’s unfortunate that I know he’s never coming back. God was greedy and wanted Daddy to come home with him instead of laying in bed, cuddling up in a warm and toasty blanket with me wrapped around his arms. He would always comfort me and hug me when I was younger-- I bet he would be the same if he was living. I can just feel his hugs everyday and everynight when I’m alone. Man, if only he was here right now.
I picked myself off the couch and locked myself in my room. I took down a dusty cardboard box from the top of my closet overflowing with pictures. I’ve looked at old photos of my dad as a younger child, but now it means a lot more to see him. This is my closest way of getting to know my father and who he is, or should I say, was. Digging through the box, I notice something peculiar in there. I pulled it out and just stare directly at it. My chest started beating faster by the second, I was worried my whole neighborhood could hear the beats growing louder and louder. Tears rolled down my cheeks and onto my sweater. I laid out the shirt and I knew exactly whose it was. I don’t exactly know why, but the tears wouldn’t stop. I picked it up and held it close to my chest. Daddy up in heaven was smiling down on me right at this moment. Looking up to the sky I mouthed a silent thank-you and blew a kiss as if he was in this room. He is still here. He wanted me to find this box and his shirt. Why else would I have known to look? Just by laying down and grinning to myself, it wasn’t going to be such a gloomy day after all.
After taking all of this in, I tiptoe over to my mom in her office as her face stares at the computer screen and her fingers jump from different letters on the keyboard directly in front of her. She works nonstop and doesn’t even bother to look at me.
“Mom, would you like to tell me what this is?” I asked.
She ignores me and keeps on typing.
“Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.” I repeat over and over again.
It’s like she’s a robot and is programmed to only do her work and not care about her one and only child. I drop the shirt onto the floor and sprint upstairs. My dark room is silent, yet my mind won’t be quiet. The bed is painted with old photos of Daddy and I don’t know what to do. Never have I felt so alone in my entire life. Although Daddy is here right next to me, there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. Imagining the squeeze he used to give me when he got home from work and the kisses as he wrapped his arms around me brought my eyes to tears. No one wants to know who my dad was. No one except me. I lay down on the floor. Thinking about everything that has happened makes me tired so I decide that I need a break and go to sleep. After I go to sleep, I will be able to have a clear mind again.

After waking up, I feel a lot better than I did before. I also feel a lot more powerful and I can ask my mom all the questions I want to know the answers to. I stomp down the stairs feeling extremely confident and march into my mom’s office. “Mom, you need to listen to me. I need to know about Daddy.”
“Honey, I understand that you want to know, but there’s nothing really to tell you.”
“But Mom! I don’t want to know, I need to know. Don’t you think it’s pretty important for a young girl to know about her own father that loved and cared for her?”
“Listen Taylor, there’s nothing to know about your dad, alright? Everything is fine and you don’t need a distraction that’s not even important.”
I raised my voice to a scream, “Not important? How could you say that about your own husband? You loved him so much and admit it; you wish he was here right this moment. You wish he never died and you wish you could be with him,” I continued, “Daddy was the best thing that’s ever happened in your life and now you don’t even want to talk about him? Wow, I can’t believe you.”
Mom didn’t have anything left to say. She knew I was right and deserve to know about my dad. “Go up to your room. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
I don’t have anything to say back to her, so I run upstairs to the living room, but with Dad’s shirt this time. Like before, I’m all alone. No one is there for me and there’s no one to trust. How can I find out? I need to know about him, just how can I? It’s no use to keep going on if no one’s going to help me. I flop onto the couch and bury my face into the pillows. My tears fall down looking like it stained the light blue couch. I can’t take it anymore. Everything I say doesn’t matter to anyone. If someone asked me if I could have the superpower to fly or be invisible, I would choose to fly. Want to know why? Because you don’t need superpowers to feel invisible. It’s like I’m a ghost and no one wants to help me. One day I know I’ll be acknowledged. I just don’t know when that day will come.
As I slump back to my room, I slam the door. I hate everything! Nothing can ever go my way and no one is ever going to be there for me. I flip the light switch and my room gets bright. After I settle down and get cozy as I cuddle with Daddy’s big shirt, I let loose once again. The tears began streaming down like they did over a million times today. Why can’t things ever be good for me? It’s useless to keep pestering my mom; it’s gotten me nowhere. I lean over my bed to reach my old, run down journal on the floor. I open to the next clean page and start scribbling down my feelings. I write:
Dear Diary,

I wish I could have a better life. One with Daddy and someone to guide me. Sometimes I just sit and think how my life would be if he were here with me. I also think to myself what would happen if my father was still here and my mom wasn’t. Would I still feel like this? My life feels so empty and lonely. Why did he have to die? I have to bottle up my feelings and spill it out onto every single page in this journal to make myself feel better. Only this time, I don’t. I try asking and getting along well with Mom, but she doesn’t care at all. Work is too important and always comes first before me. Oh, I miss Daddy. I miss him so much. I just need to know about him so I can feel connected with my own dad who I can’t even have a conversation with. There has to be a way. And I will find it.
After I jot every last word down there’s a knock on my door and I know it’s my mother. I ask, “What do you want from me? Haven’t I bothered you enough?”
“Honey, can I please come in?”
“Whatever. I don’t care.”
Mom enters my room and looks down at my floor scattered with all the pictures. She pauses for a moment and begins to open her mouth, “Sweetie, I want to talk to you about something very important.”
“Well, what is it?” I respond without making eye contact.
“It’s about you dad.”
I look straight up at her and sit up on my bed. Mom sits down next to me and before she says a word, I hug her as tight as I can. I stare into her eyes and whisper, “Thank you.” This is the day. Today is the day my dad died. This is the day I am finally acknowledged.