A personal reflection paper I did for one of my college courses. I was surprised at how much I actually liked it. Again, this is to not envoke pity for me. I'm over that stage.

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I can always remember how my father’s homecoming was always a special treat. When I was a child, my father used to work down south as a surveyor. There were periods of weeks we wouldn’t see him at all, but I’m sure our phone bills were fairly high considering how much we talked with him over the phone! I remember one night in particular playing the piano over the phone for my father. Despite the fact that I had done horribly (I never had much talent for playing that stupid thing), he still congratulated me on how well I had done. However, when he would come home everything seemed great. Being home schooled at the time, my mother would give us the week off just so that we could spend time with him. We had a great time together until he had to leave again. He eventually quit and found a job closer to home, and, while he wasn’t gone all the time, he was still away quite a bit.

That one week every month or so that my father was home was a great time for family bonding. We’d all listen to the stories my dad had to tell about working downstate (well, I doubt he told all of them). In return he’d hear about what was going on in our lives…how school was (either when we were at the private school or when we were home schooled). We’d go places for the day just to spend time together, knowing very well that soon he’d have to leave again. My dad would always bring something back for all of us. Once he brought us each a piece of “petrified wood”, and explained to us how they were formed…how the wood saw something so terribly frightful that they turned to stone. My sister and I laughed when he told us knowing full well that’s not how it happened yet at the same time letting his explanation suffice. He also once brought back a black kitten explaining that he had found the little guy nearly dead in the woods and nursed it back to health. When he left again, my father left the small animal in our care, knowing full well that we (with the help of our mom) would take care of it. Even in those short visits, my father helped shape who I am today. I was proud to be his “son”…his little girl that would wrestle with him and smile victoriously when she “beat” him; his little girl that would sit for hours and watch a NASCAR race with him every week; his little girl who despised jewelry, makeup, and dresses.

However, consequences also resulted from seeing him so little. Even now, six and a half years after his death, I still feel as though I never got to know him. I still feel as though I never got to form that strong father-daughter bond that it seems most other girls get to share with their dads. Despite the fact that he quit working downstate around the time I turned eight or nine and didn’t pass away until I was on the verge of turning thirteen, I have always felt cheated a father. Because of this, I want to strangle whenever I hear someone complain about their father; how he didn’t let them go to the party of the century, or grounded them for being out two hours past curfew. I have become bitter when it comes to the subject of dads and how I never seemed to really get to spend time mine, I still have a tendency to get irritable and edgy. I often still find myself upset and angry about the important things in my life that he’s missed such as getting my driver’s license, turning 18, graduation and my first day of college. I also feel regret that he can’t meet my boyfriend nor will he be there when and if I ever get married. But most of all I regret that I never really got to know him. That’s probably the biggest regret that plagues my mind to this day and probably for the rest of my life even though I know it wasn’t entirely my fault.

My family life was pretty good growing up, even if my father was gone a lot. I can’t really blame him…he was helping put food on our table and pay the bills, but I still really wish that I could have gotten to know him a bit better. Perhaps if he were still here with us today, the story would be different. But, if he were here today my life would probably be completely different. I firmly believe that everything that happens in the universe happens for a reason. I may never know the reason for my father’s absence during my childhood as well as my teenager years and beyond, but I do know that all this combined help shape me into the person that I am today. I know that he’d be proud of me and all my accomplishments, but I still wish he were here to verbalize them himself instead of me having to draw conclusions. But there is one thing I’ve learned from all of this for sure: never take the ones close to you for granted; they may be there for you one day, but it only takes one instance to completely change your views. That way, if something ever should happen you’ll leave behind no regrets.

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And, since my prof. mentioned it, I'll let you know what happened in the author notes: My father was at work one day when he suffered a massive heart attack (basically the doctor told us his heart pretty much exploded). There was no suffering on his part for which I'm glad. He died instantly.

Thanks for reading!