Has it really been three years?

It's been three years.

Three years since he decided to take those pills and end it all.
Of coarse, the only thing he succeeded to do was put himself into a coma.
Three years since I heard his voice, telling me everything was going to be okay.
I remember hugging him tightly.

"Promise me you'll always be daddy's little girl, Sam?"

I just nodded.
I remember thinking I would have him forever.
How was I supposed to know?

The headlines said it all, that day. this day, three years ago.

"Local man too sick to face child pornography charges"

He lied.
He said he lost his job because he simply got fired.
I would have thought the police would have told us.

Fourteen year olds.
Do you know how fucking sick I felt?
Knowing your own father sexually asulted girls your own age.

But now it's been three years.
I've taught myself to live without him.
I'm no longer "daddy's little girl".

Sometimes I like to tell myself this is all a nightmare.
That one day, I'll wake up and I'll be at his house again.
He can take me to the park again, and we can have a barbeque.
He might even let me stay up late to watch the hockey game.
I always loved watching it with him, even though I hate hockey.

It might've been the fact that I was simply with him.

But it's been three years.

It makes me sad to know I can never have that again.

"Daddy's still here."

the email he sent me on my birthday.

"Daddy's still with you. I will always love you."

Sometimes I wish it were true. The headlines explained themselves:

"Local sex offender sentenced to 30 to 60 days house arrest"

"Local sex offender attempts suicide for the second time, avoiding a court date"

It shames me.
It was hell.
Seeing his face on every goddam newspaper, television news cast, magazine.

But it's been three years.
And he's not coming back.