Your Little Girl

Singing me a song with your guitar,
I throw my dark sunglasses on, and at age two they are much too big,
for my little face
but that is okay, because I can see your reflection, smiling at me,
in the mirror too high
for my little arms to reach.

I am your little girl.

Teaching me how to drive,
look behind you when you try to back up,
and always "watch out for the other man",
I doubt you'll ever wanna be around your old dad
when you have your license.

I am your little girl, and I disagree.

The boys are gonna be all over her,
your friends told you, tell you, every day,
and you think I have a boyfriend, more than one even, that I am hiding,
away somewhere because I am not yet ready to tell you that,
your little girl is growing up
but I don't, and I'm not.

I am your little girl, and there is no other important man in my life.

You never hugged me much as a baby, never said I love you
when I was around to hear,
and I always wondered why, and I always asked Grandma,
and she told me that is how you've always been,
never affectionate along the lines of family values and such. But lately,
something in you has changed,
and it's like neither of us thinks we have as much time as we
once had with each other, so you're saying it more,
and I've hugged you three times in the past week,
and things are so different now that I want to cry because
all of this emotion is inside of me and I have nothing else to do with it.

I am your little girl, and I regret not saying what needed to be said.

I regret,
every bit of anger I have held, and will hold, towards you.
I regret,
not wanting to go places with you, not wanting you to meet my friends.
I regret,
every year up until this one, because now I realize just how proud
I should have been,
to have someone like you to call my father.

I am your little girl, and I am ashamed to admit that I was ashamed.

You are getting so weak, and on the outside it would appear as if
you have already started chemotherapy, because of how much
weight you have lost, and how tired you are, and how upset everything makes you, and I am worried that I am already
losing my best friend.

I am your little girl, and I am scared.

I have cried until I fear that blood will pour from my ears, mouth, and nose,
I have cursed until I no longer have words for the way I am feeling,
I have sung stupid songs to you over and over out of tune on purpose,
just to make you smile,
just to make you laugh,
just to stop the racking coughs,
from shaking your now frail body.

I was a little girl, a month ago.

In just a short time, I have been faced with things that I
should not have to be faced with.
In just a short time, I have had to consider the fact that this time next year,
you just might not be around to laugh with me,
to talk on the phone to Alex with me,
to drive on the mountains with me,
to make faces with me,
to watch old movies with me,
to do...anything with me.

I am no longer the same little girl,
that you rocked and held in your arms at age 31.
I am no longer the same little girl,
that you picked up and swung around the room.

I am no longer the same person, and neither are you.

They say things happen for a reason, but I don't believe that.
I think that things happen, and sometimes they don't have reasons,
they have excuses.

The disease inside of you was caused by the cigarettes,
that you inhaled from age 12,
that you never wanted to put down,
that you knew would hurt you,
but never dared dream would make you this sick.

If I could reach inside and pull it all out in handfuls,
I would.

If I could see inside of your heart, and carefully sew the two pieces back together,
I would.

If I can help cure you just by being obediant and helpful and caring,
I will.

I love you, Dad.

As cliche and overused as it sounds,
I always have,
and always will.