From: Pittsburgh, PA
I wish you were here.
Let’s go back to ten years ago, when I was never seen without a bow in my hair, and took pride in the fact that my brown doe eyes were identical to my father’s. That little girl I used to be – she knew that she didn’t have things figured out, but that was okay. Like others her age, she had light up shoes, a sticker collection, and someone to tuck her in at night. She was impressionable, bright, hopeful, and she wouldn’t believe me if I told her what was coming. Even if I had the ability to warn that innocent child, the reality is that all of the preparation in the world couldn’t have changed the outcome.
It’s hard to pinpoint when I lost my dad. I was never ‘ready’ for my father to drop dead from the effects of alcoholism, but I should have expected it when he did. There were many days prior to December 23rd where I looked at the man who held my hand at the bus stop for all those years, but didn’t see my dad. He felt gone, and then he suddenly was. It was, and still is, hard to imagine that he became a number on a chart of tens and thousands of individuals who die a preventable death. A chart of tens and thousands of Americans who left a scarred family behind.