Father, Daughter Dance

I looked at the picture of my father and me holding hands at the festival when I was five. We had matching t-shirts and hats. In my dad’s free hand, he was holding a bag of pink cotton candy. I could see the dark clouds behind us. It started to rain after my mom took the picture so we had to go home. I cried all the way because I didn’t get to ride the teddy bears that spun around and around.

I miss my dad so much. He died a year ago in a car accident. I always try to forget that day, but I remember it like it was just yesterday. I was in class and my phone vibrated, when I opened it up, my mom sent me a text message.
I couldn’t read it because my teacher was coming towards me, so I asked to go to the bathroom, as soon as I got there, I opened my phone and read, “ I’m coming to pick you up.” I was worried because she never picked me up early from school. After I went back to class, I sat there just wondering what was going on. Ten minutes later a pass was brought to my class and my teacher gave it to me. I packed my stuff and I saw my mom in the main office. She hugged me tight and I heard her sniffle.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Your dad…he’s,” she stuttered.

“He what?” I said, feeling much more scared then before.

“He’s gone…” she said softly.

“Gone? Mom what do you mean?”

“There was a car accident and he didn’t survive it,” she said as she starting crying harder.

“Car accident? When? How?” I started to talk louder.

“I don’t know honey. The police called me and told me. They said they found him underneath both cars and he wasn’t breathing,” she explained.

“NO!” I shouted,
I fell down in the chair. The secretary hurried around her desk and helped my mom to hold me up.

From there on, that moment was all a blur, but today is the Father and Daughter dance at my school. My dad always promised he’d take me, he told me it would be the best dance I’d ever go to. We picked my dress out a week before his accident. It’s red, this nice dark red with sparkles. It comes down to my knees and has spaghetti straps. He told me not to put it on until the dance, but every time he saw it hanging in my closet he’d say, “You’ll look so beautiful in that dress.”

I miss his jokes, his stories, his comfort. I miss him. Dad always told me I could do anything I wanted if I put my all into it. He encouraged me to follow my dreams. He made my mom so happy. She is still recovering from his death. She stays busy to forget about it. We never talk about dad. I’m not able to and I don’t think she is either. Some day we’ll talk about him for hours. He was the heart of our family.

I’m sitting here on my bed still looking at this picture, and I’m wearing the dress. I got ready just as if I was going. I know he can’t be here but I’ve been waiting too long to wear this and to go to this dance. Now I can’t, though. Not without my dad. I ran my hand down my dress feeling its silky surface. Sparkles caught my hand. A tear drop fell on top of the picture. I didn’t even notice I was crying; I’ve been doing it for so long.

If only he could see me in this dress. If only I could walk outside the door with my arm wrapped around my dad’s and smiling to my mom as my heart jumped with excitement.
We would have gotten in his big truck I was always embarrassed of when he brought me somewhere where my friends would be. But I wouldn’t care this night. Now all I could do for tonight was wish and wish I could be there.

I set the picture back down on my night stand and crumpled onto my bed. I felt my dress one more time and closed my eyes. The closest I could get to being at the dance is dream that I was.


"This will certify that the above work is completely original" Renelle Turgeon.