I don't know what changed. I was too young to see the change as it happened.
All I know, is you were there, them you weren't. Dad, where did you go? You just left.
You never wrote, or came to see me. You left me here. I'm all alone, I don't know what to do. You always knew.
I was so little, so small and scared. You and mom would fight. Loud, scary, and angry fights. I would just hide under my bed.
One night, the fight didn't come. I was glad, so happy the nightmare was over. I didn't know that when you tucked me into bed, it would be for the last time.
I didn't know that when you told me goodnight, you really meant goodbye.
I didn't know that when you kissed my forehead, and promised me a happy life, that it would be a life without you.
I didn't know, that when I awoke ing morning, you wouldn't be there to take me to school, or cheer me on at my baseball game.
So I smiled, called you a silly daddy, and fell asleep in your goodbye hug.
You would have gone, I wouldn't have found out till morning. But I had a bad dream, so I went to your and mom's room. You were gone.
Your clothes, baseball bat, glove, and cap were gone. So were your laptop, all your pictures of me and you, and that scared me.
I woke up mom, she said you ran away. Said you were scared 'cause of your fights with her. Scared you were hurting me.
I went back to my rom, found the ball cap you had got me, it had been signed by my and your hero, pitcher for the Yankees at the time you got it, Mickey Mantle.
I climbed onto my bed and cried. I wantd my dad. Not a ball cap, not my mom. I wanted my daddy.
A seven year old little girl, crying for a daddy that would never come.
Now, almost ten years later, here I stand. Above your grave. My leather jacket's collar flapping in the wind.
I stand above your grave, next to moms. I pray for a second that its all just a bad dream. That I really had a Father, and my Mother was crazy as hell.
But I opened my eyes, only to stare at two, cold, unmoving, headstones.
I don't cry, it's not in me anymore. I cried mydelf out ten yars ago for you. I greived for mom almost seven years ago.
Greiving won't help now anymore than it did then. Anymore than it did after she took those pills.
Or after you ran that redlight.
I missed you, but you never came. I wanted my Father, I got a fading memory. Kinda like me.
Daddy, where did you go? I asked to late, you're already gone.