Goodbyes are always so difficult for me. My aunt and uncle have been visiting for the past ten days and left this morning. We live on the opposite coast from my family. Time spent with them is precious and slips through my fingers every time.
I was two years old when my father died. Growing up without a father is life defining.
When you are a child without a father, you see them everywhere. Holding hands with their children, teaching them to ride a bike, tossing them in the air.
When you are a child without a father, you ache for what you don’t have.
Your heart breaks when you hear the term “Daddy’s Girl,” as those words will never be used to describe you, no matter how much you wish it were so.
My uncle, my godfather, was just a teenager when I was born. He was so incredibly cool and handsome; I was sure that I would marry him. I followed him everywhere and knew that he’d marry me just as soon as I could convince him how wonderful a plan it was.
We watched football together, he taught me to ride a bike, he took me for rides in his car, he played his Foreigner and Styx albums (yes, albums!) for me. I adored him.
All this time, he was giving me the one gift that no one else truly could. He was being my dad.
His kindness, compassion, and presence are gifts that have lasted me a lifetime. They are gifts that ultimately led me to my husband, as I knew that I could settle for no one less wonderful.
What a lucky woman my aunt is! I sure hope she’s enjoying my guy.