I am a fatherless daughter. I am a never-fathered daughter. I am a daughter who thought she could have a father.
What does it mean to lose someone you never had? What does it mean to want to say the news only to choke on the words before they can come out?
What does it mean to be gripped
with the sudden urge to
because what wants to come out is not
words but a
Some losses are a tornado: they rip through your life and leave wreckage in their wake.
Some losses are yet to come, and I figure the lights will go out of my eyes when they do. So it is.
But some losses leave you swirling in questions, drowning not in grief but in remembrance of what could have been.