Dad's Stars

I looked at the sky above me, and my breath was taken away. The heavens were filled with billions upon billions of stars. They shined dimly, yet I knew inside they were powerful. I pointed out each incredible star to my dad, who tried to tell me the names and constellations. Being only seven-years-old, I didn't understand a word he was saying but was fascinated by the big names of the stars. 

"Daddy, why are there so many stars?" I asked. 

"Well, they're there to watch as through the night, our many little guardian angels." He replied, gazing into the night sky with a childish grin on his face. 

I ran across the grass to view more stars; they were endless. I attempted to count them but to no avail. Instead of calling them their scientific names, I made up my own, which were much more comfortable to say. 

"There's Bob, Mary, Charlie, Rachel, Daniel…" I explained to my dad. 

"Why are you naming them?" He questioned. 

"Well, you got to name them; now I'm just giving them nicknames," I answered happily. 

After my first day of second grade, I gazed up at the stars and told them how my day went. I would address each of them by name and have a pretend conversation with them. In my mind, they were talking to me. They were my friends. Each day, more and more joined, and I would name them. To this day, I remember the names of all the stars who were my original friends. In second grade, I didn't have many friends. I would get on the yellow, noisy school bus, sit-in class, eat lunch alone, then go home. The joy of my star-friends helped me through elementary. I never told anyone about my friends in the sky, mostly because I had no one to talk to, but I also didn't want to be made fun of. In fourth grade, I met a boy named Bob. I wanted to be his friends because I thought Bob the star had sent him to me. I finally got the courage to talk to Bob, and we became the best of friends. I was thrilled when I came home that day.

Every night when I'd come home from school, my dad and I would grab a blanket and layout and look at the stars and talk about our days. I would tell him stories about my "friends." He would listen to every one of them, never telling me it was silly or not real. He made it feel real for me. His hugs were the best. He was a tall man, with quite a large belly, but strong enough to pick me up and twirl me around. He had the most beautiful laugh, which reverberated around the room, so everyone knew something was funny to my dad. He was so understanding about everything I went through, big and small. He cared so much and listened attentively to what I had to say, even when I rambled on (which happened more often than you would think). Even when it rained, or we had swarms of mosquitos chase us, we still enjoyed the stars. 

At the beginning of middle school, I thought I was too cool for my star friends, so I didn't talk to them after school that first day. My dad noticed and asked me what was wrong. I replied that it's probably not cool to have star-friends in middle school, to which he replied: "Why do you care what other people think? If they're your friends, you shouldn't betray them." That stuck with me. After my dad's "pep-talk" you could call it, I had a lengthy conversation with them, apologizing and saying I didn't even want to be cool if it meant sacrificing my friendship with them. I felt much better knowing I could still have my star-friends. 

A couple of days before my sixteenth birthday, my dad told me to pack camping stuff for three days. I was curious as to why, but also very excited. We drove to the Big Bend National Park. At that point, I still had no idea why we had driven to a national park for my birthday. We packed our stuff and hicked through the scenery, which had hills and trees everywhere, really gave the camping experience. We set up camp, and my dad told me to wait until it got dark. As we waited in our tent, my dad talked to me about the responsibilities that come with being able to drive. Also, my dad was good at serious talks. He explained things clearly and made excellent points. Once it was dark, I never would've expected what I saw:

The stars. They were more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. They showed more brightly than the ones at home and seemed more colorful too. I thanked my dad for taking me to this beautiful place and showing my favorite things: stars. Throughout the trip, my father taught me survival skills and how to crack a good joke. To this day, that is one of my favorite trips. 

In my high school years, I struggled, but I always had my dad by my side. While he wasn't very good at helping me with the school aspects of my difficulties, he would encourage me and tell me the positives of my situation. I came to him with everything that happened in my life, and he always gave me good advice. Then, the unimaginable happened. 

While in my senior year of high school, I got a call that my dad had been in a horrible car accident. I raced to the hospital to see what had happened. What I saw was indescribable; the man I saw on the stretcher was not my dad, but a mangle of a person and on the verge of death. I was struck with fear. I went up to him and said "I love you," 

"Baby," he said, in a raspy voice. "Remember the stars; they are always with you. Love you," and with that, he took his last painful breath.

At first, I blamed everything for my dad's death. Even my star-friends, telling them they had taken him away from me. After a couple of months, I dared to grab a blanket and look up the stars, without my dad. That day I realized that the stars were my guardian angels, and my dad had joined them and was watching over me too. As I gazed into the endless galaxy of stars, I smiled. 

To this day, I bring my husband Bob and our children to Big Bend National Park every year to have the experience and relationships with the stars as I did. Knowing that even in the craziness of life, the stars will always be there beside you. So, I looked to the sky and said, "Hello, dad."