I Made Her Cry-A Father’s Truth
I sat next to my daughter today on a park bench. Funny how I see her today is how I left her crying. The song from Emile Sande blared from her headphones called Clown. She held a picture of me and the man who married another instead of her. I hung my head because her sorrows penetrated my heart. Her tears were a reminder of the fact that I broke her heart first. That I abandon her for the next one. I broke her instead of molding her into a confident child, teen, and woman. It was my responsibility to set the tone. I didn’t wipe away her tears that day she begged me to stay. In fact, I told my little girl to woman up. I told her I couldn’t love her because she resembled her mother. I taught her she wasn’t worthy of love and an explanation. I would later discover that she believes she should accept it because from the gate I showed her she didn’t qualify. I am the blueprint of her pain no matter that she is an adult. I created the beginning of her chapter. I take full ownership of damaging my daughter before making her whole.
I didn’t kiss her goodbye, so I taught her from the gate that a man would always walk out of her life because she wasn’t enough. I left her with questions about the authenticity of love. I taught her she was last on my list and that she should embrace her position.
I have to eat the shit that I was not the best father. I never taught her she…
