Daddy's Girl

“Daddy!” He caught his daughter as she jumped off the top step into his arms. He quickly hugged her, tucking her under his arm to keep walking up the stairs of the porch. She giggled and laughed as only a three year can when held almost upside down. “Daddy, you silly!” she squealed as he entered their home, kissed his waiting wife, and then set the little girl on her feet. He tousled her curly hair under his rough fingers. “Love you, pumpkin,” he told the bright shining face staring at him, “now go help Mommy with dinner.” He watched as her tiny feet sped her directly into the kitchen to do her “chores for Mommy.”  His daughter was a real delight, and it made his life much more difficult recently.

A pair of warm hands came up from behind and massaged his tight shoulders for a moment. “I’m glad you’re home.” His wife whispered, pausing when he didn’t respond.  His wife spun him around gently and looked deeply into his flat empty eyes. “You need to forgive yourself. You know what all the doctors and therapists said.”

He felt the old worn-out anger boiling up into his gut at her words. He knew she was right. That only made it worse. He removed her hands from his shoulders, rubbed her 8-month pregnant belly perfunctorily, and mumbled, “Maybe I won’t screw this next one up.” He turned swiftly away from her before he could see the look on her face. He was sick to death of seeing that loving, patient, and pitying look. He’d been getting it a lot lately. “I’m going to go clean up for dinner.”

By the time he reached the master bathroom, he was blinded with hot hateful tears. He ratcheted up the hot water in the shower as far as it would go, undressing and stepping in. The water pounded down on his bent head as that horrible day began playing back inside his exhausted head.  He had been in a fog of anger all that morning. It had been a stressful week in general between work, all the past due bills, his wife’s precarious health, and another child soon to be here. He attempted to shake himself from the unpleasant memories, but they were as sharply relentless as the hot water smacking the top of his head. He continued to watch that day play out in his mind again- he was unwilling to stop the playback. Replaying his guilt made him feel better.  He held his breath under the hot water of the shower while he saw himself loading up the car for their regular weekend trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. He watched as he was short and rude with his ill wife. He cringed as he witnessed his anger at his little girl’s sweet tiny voice singing the same song over and over on the two-hour ride. He now saw that he had allowed the traffic to frustrate him too. So once they reached Grandma and Grandpa’s house, he was numb with rage. Knowing what was next, a weak whimper escaped his wet lips as he turned his burning face laying his cheek against the cool shower wall. “I didn’t know! I didn’t see!” he exclaimed to the falling water and empty air. The shower did not reply, and it certainly did not absolve him of his guilt.  What a wake-up call that day was for him!  He shook his head sorrowfully as he saw himself as he was really that day::  a grown man, successful in business, a man of the world, a father of a delightful perfectly-formed three-year-old, a man so wrapped up in his own mood, so mad that he acted without concern for anyone else especially his sweet daughter. His actions that day had changed all of their lives forever.  Waves of sorrow came as he remembered pulling into their driveway, seeing Grandpa and Grandma waiting for them on the porch excitedly waving to his family, and then getting out of the driver’s seat himself. At that point, he had not known that in her eagerness to get out of the car and into Grandma’s outstretched arms, his determined little girl had undone her own seat buckles, kicked the car door open, and was sliding on her belly out of the backseat. The next firm memory he had is seeing the back door open on the car for some reason. It had angered him suddenly, and without thinking, he had slammed it shut.  As the accident replayed and the sound of it ringing in his ears, he jumped with the shock of it. Adrenaline rushed into his body, and suddenly he couldn’t feel the water pelting down on him in the shower.  He knew that three things would stay with him forever: the sound of his daughter’s screams, the look on the other adult’s faces, and the sight of that tiny hand caught in a closed car door. The fact is that he hadn’t paused. He hadn’t even looked just once to check on his daughter, and this tortured him still. He knew that he was the one responsible for maiming his daughter for life. Their therapists had warned him about replaying the accident in his head repeatedly without truly dealing with the emotions of it. All the therapist’s words came back to him in an avalanche, threatening to overwhelm him completely and bringing him back to the present with a surge. He put his hand out to steady himself and ended up catching hold of his daughter’s favorite bath toy, a small pink elephant. At the sight of that sweet innocent elephant, all of his senses came fully and painfully alive.  The water was cold, his body was shivering, and he needed to move on. As he turned off the water, he found he could not put down the toy. It stared at him, unflinchingly, almost daring him to finish what the recall of the memory had started. come more fully present. He shook his head- he could swear the pink elephant had a message for him. Early on, they had discovered that baths were too difficult to do with her bandages, so she hadn’t been able to take a bath since that dreadful day.  The resilient girl had excitedly embraced “helping mommy wash” though- thus, the reason for the pink elephant bath toy in his shower. Standing in the cold water running down his body, he now allowed himself to think about how life has been for his little girl. Tears of admiration and pride rolled down his cheeks as he remembered how well his daughter had done with all the challenges presented to her with being hurt terribly and then the equally terrible healing process. Tears of sorrow poured out of his eyes as he realized that his daughter was more adult than he had been lately- and she is the one dealing with a significant injury.  Finally, he cried out all of his rage, anger, sorrow, and grief into the shower.

“She’s so strong- stronger than me,” he thought as he grabbed the sopping wet toy. “I have a secret,” he said as he whispered his secret into the elephant’s belly. This grown man, used to so much success in other areas of his life, completely confessed all of his heart’s burdens to the soft and silent pink elephant bath toy.  Although the only reply came from his own gut, he felt immensely better except for a sickening dread in his stomach of what he needed to do now. He knew that what he had planned to do today was not right.

A deep cleansing breath steadied his wavering nerves as he dried, dressed, and slowly walked back out to join his family for dinner. He saw his family waiting for him patiently at the table.

His heart tugged again at the sight of them. He knew that his wife would understand his next movements, and he felt a new kind of fear. He was surprised to realize that now he was more afraid of hurting his wife than admitting that his anger had caused that dreadful accident. He knew that the accident happened, and there was no changing that- he could not undo it. However, he knew what he had schemed up just that morning would hurt his wife more than anything else.  And his leaving would crush his little girl in a way incomparable to that car door. He felt regret. His wife had been so patient, so accepting, so understanding.

He caught his beautiful wife’s eyes and sent as much love as he could to her, holding her gaze. He held up a finger as he opened the front door and left it open behind him, hoping his wife understood.

It took only a few minutes. He was very deliberate as he unpacked the car from his suitcases. He had packed everything he thought he cared about into those cases late last night and sneakily packed the trunk just that morning while his precious family slept.  He stood there for a moment just inside the threshold, staring at his shoes, unsure at how his wife would react. He looked up straight into the eyes of the woman he knew he had mistreated for a long time, way before the accident. They held each other’s gaze for a moment that stopped time—unspoken words passed between them with shooting energy. In a flash, he knew that she knew what those suitcases meant- and what it meant for him to bring them back.

With relief, he saw, and heart wide-open accepted that look of love, patience, and pity from his wife this time.

He went to the ever-patient wife and dropped a kiss on her forehead, softly saying to her: “I am so sorry.” She reached up and caressing his cheek, not saying a word. 

“Daddy, look! I drewed it for you! It’s you and me playing” Her little left hand held up a paper towards him, “and Mommy helped me,” she said, holding up her bandaged right hand triumphantly. Her mother beamed proudly at her, “Yes, we were able to use two of your fingers today during practice time, weren’t we? That was a new record, Daddy. See how well she’s doing?”

He felt the love of his wife in the air, and it felt so good. He let that love enter into his skin, and he breathed it in fully and deeply. He turned to his daughter, seeing how the love she had for him shining out of her eyes.

His heart leaped in his chest, his breath caught in his throat, choking him, and he felt the weight of his own unforgiveness lift. “It’s beautiful!” he crooned as tears streamed down his cheeks, “Just like you, my little daddy's girl!”