I didn't want to grow up without my Dad, but I was left without a choice. I was too young to fully understand the situation, but old enough so that I remembered every little detail - so vividly, that it can haunt me even today. I never understood why he was taken away from us, and I still don't. One minute I was Daddy's little girl, and the next I was 'Davie's only daughter'.
When my Dad died, I took two weeks off of school - the funeral, the family and the aftermath of it all. I could've taken the whole fucking year off, I didn't feel any better. My Gran [My Dad's Mum] wanted me to wear black to his funeral, and I point-blank refused. I didn't want to be around distant family that I'd never known to begin with, so I went off to the swingpark with my cousin. I didn't want anymore time moping around at home, so I went back to school.
I was ten years old, I wasn't old enough to get my head around any of it.
I was never a proper Christian, I wasn't sure if I believed in God or not. After my Dad's death, I decided that I didn't. If there was some God looking down and protecting us all, why was he letting all of this happen? I prayed everyday for my Dad to get better, but he never did. I watched my family go through hell and back, and I had my own fucking Dad stolen from me. At that point, I lost what little faith I had.
I watched him die right infront of me. Everyday, he grew weaker and weaker. They're not supposed to let you out of the hospital under you're better, but they let him back home as he grew worse and worse. On a good day, he could come downstairs but on a bad day, he could barely even move. At one point, he was so drugged up that he couldn't even remember who I was. That broke my heart.
The night before he died, I kissed him goodnight. It was like he was already dead. I stood there shaking, watching his chest rise and fall slowly but surely. I went to my bed, and cried for what seemed like hours. Just after midnight, my Mum came into my room. She didn't say a word, but she didn't have to - I just knew. I didn't cry, because I'd already cried. I wasn't surprised, I was relieved. I knew when I'd said goodnight, that was it. It was all over now.
Five years to this very day, and I miss him more than ever. It doesn't get easier, it just gets harder and harder.
