Daddy's girl

I always knew that life was going to be challenging. Growing up as a child had been interesting to say the least... Mum on medication to battle her depression. In hindsight probably a coping mechanism to deal with dad who enjoyed a drink or two, and lost his job as a result. After their divorce, my brother, sister and I would often find ourselves alone after school or on weekends, which was great at the time. After all we had all that freedom to play and watch TV while mum was juggling 2 jobs. Looking back, probably not so great a time for us at all, really. School grades were average, we did fight a lot and no-one ever came to visit. Unsurprisingly, we lost touch.

Fast forward 20 years and here we are. Little sis working hard to feed her family of four, little brother dedicating long hours to his work to compensate for a failed marriage, and I have yet to come to grips with the mess my parents made bringing us up.

So, disbelief was probably my first reaction to seeing dad again. It had been 5 years since anyone had last seen him. After losing his last job, he had found himself a small unit that was cheaper to run. His savings ran out eventually. The lease was not renewed. Dad vanished.

After my parents' painful breakup, studying had helped me numb the pain. I went to uni, graduated and found a job in sales. The money was alright. It paid the bills and a few outings. There had been dates, too. A few possible suitors but the void dad had left made it impossible for me to settle. No-one was good enough, interesting enough, funny enough. Not enough to replace my missing dad.

Sadness came over me next. So many wasted years. I had been daddy's girl from the day that I was born. Then life got in the way. Daddy left. Daddy stopped calling. Then no more fortnightly visits. This had been it.

I could tell from the way he was looking at me now that he too was upset. And so we stared at each for a while, then we cried. There, on the side of a busy street that was buzzing with traffic noise and hurried passersby. There we were. Together, two meters apart.

He looked so much older with his long beard, dirty clothes and scruffy face. He had lost half of his weight, too.

Fear. What had happened to him all these years? Where had he been? Had he lived on his own all this time?

As he lowered his head in shame, I could now clearly see the long greasy hair sticking against his ragged jacket.

I panicked. Who was this person standing in front of me? Was he still the loving dad I remembered? Did he remember caring for me?

I rushed to him and hugged him like I had never hugged anyone before. There we were. Eyes closed, crying our eyes out, hugging each other so tightly. Raw emotions flooding back. Pain, joy, regret... And memories, happy memories. Holidays by the sea, picking raspberries, playing cards, eating waffles.

How I had missed those moments.

"Hi... dad" were the only words that came out of my mouth. Soft, scared, full of tenderness.

He smiled and pointed to a McDonald's.

I bought us breakfast and I watched him. I watched his face, his eyes, and saw his past. He had been homeless! Living rough as a consequence of the bottle that had controlled his life. That bottle that makes you feel happy, makes you friendly, extrovert and funny for a while. That bottle that waits for you in the shop, that calls your name at night, then during the day, then in the morning. That bottle that ends up dictating your future...

I stood up in horror, turned around, walked to the toilet and sobbed. Tears of pain, sadness, helplessness dripped down the toilet sink. The face in the mirrow was pitiful...hurt.

I finally managed to compose myself and to gather enough strength to return to the table. There he was now standing, ready to go.

I looked at him surprised, not knowing what was going to happen next.

"I have been watching you walking to your work. Every morning. This got me up in the morning... Here was my little girl all grown up with a job to go and earning a living... I have never been so proud of you."

Pressing my lips to suppress the crying, I listened intently to his story. It was heartbreaking, yet a relief to hear. So many questions answered and worries explained.

I left him, happy, with the knowledge that I would see him again, and start a new life with him. I wanted to run, tell the whole world that my daddy was back. My face was beaming. How was I going to sleep knowing that I would have to wait until the weekend to see him again?! 5 loooong days!!

Saturday morning came and I ordered us breakfast. My brother and sister turned up, too, uncertain of our dad's response to their presence. Uncomfortable silence.

9 o' clock came and went. No dad.

10 o' clock. My level of anxiety was sky high.

I jumped off my seat and decided we start looking for those places where the nobodies hide. And there he was, lying on the ground on a soiled mattress. Peaceful, happy.

I kneeled down, touched his face one more time, and cried. My brother and sister hugged each other, then kneeled beside me, and we all cried.

Going home was a big blur. This had been my dad. Our dad. He had loved me all those years.

Months passed and routine set in again, which eased the pain. Weekends alone turned into weekends filled with love and laughter. My brother would bring the old photo albums and we would reminisce or my sister would make us some waffles that we would enjoy with her beautiful children.

Life was always going to be challenging but knowing that dad was looking over me was all that mattered.