Daddy's Girl

Everyone has their ideal favorite parent. Someone that they are closer to and that they love so much they feel they will die if they lost them. I was and will always be Daddy's Girl. My father William Thompson was in the military, the Airforce. He retired with a disability and worked at a grocery store; he helped bag everything at the local Commissary on the Air Force Base. He met my mom by bagging her groceries but also because he knew her cousin's husband as they both worked together. My mom was born in The Philippines and immigrated here to The United States. She and my father met and after a year they married and soon had me in 1998.

Before I was born my mom was working at a medical facility in Utah and since my dad was retired he stayed home. So when I was born after my mom started to go back to work, my dad took care of me. He was always there when I needed him. He was a funny, courageous, protective, and a loving man. He took care of me when my mom was at work though I was close with my mom as well I felt so close to my dad. I called him "Daddy." That was my first word, and he and my mom were there when I took my first steps and started to speak. He had to hold me in his arms while taking a picture with Santa Clause. If someone else tried to hold me I would reach for him or my mom because I loved them both so much. I held my dad so close to me that I was afraid of losing him and my mom.

As I grew older we grew closer and even though I wasn't spoiled rotten I never once gave them disrespect. I never once threw a tantrum that wasn't unless I was younger. I worked hard in school and worked hard to show them that I loved them so much. My parents and I lived in the suburbs, a safe and small neighborhood where everyone knew everyone. Where we all knew each other at school and could trust them to walk over to their house and say hi. I loved to read and my dad encouraged me to read so much and I couldn't stop. Most of the time if I got into trouble they would take away my books because that was what I held so deeply.

I was 7-years-old and I was in second grade of elementary school. Before he passed away we both dealt with some hard things. A few weeks before when my dad was dropping me off at school his foot got stuck under the break and was unable to fully stop the car as we parked. We ran over a tree and I was scared yes but I was more worried about my dad because of his health issues. But I saw him, he wasn't confused or light-headed. He was perfectly fine; it was just a small accident that no one could have predicted.

I should have seen it as a sign though because a few weeks after that I laid with him for a little while on the couch that night. I rested with him before I went upstairs with my mom who had a headache. I went to bed that night just so happy because I was grateful to god that I had an amazing family. That morning I woke up to my mom sobbing and she was talking to a police officer in our bedroom. I was so confused. I felt my heart stop because I couldn't see my dad.

I thought at first mom was just crying over one of her television shows that she watched from the Philippines and the cop was just asking questions about something that happened in the neighborhood. Nothing happened but I had no idea why my mom was still crying and why she was speaking to the police. I just sat there trying to listen but they just kept talking so quietly that I couldn't hear a thing. When the policeman left my mom finally came to me and took my hand and hugged me. She told me that my dad passed away in his sleep and I was so shocked. I couldn't cry because I didn't fully understand. I was 7, a kid wouldn't understand so easily. I also didn't want to believe it that my dad was gone that he passed away and is now in heaven watching over us.

I just sat in my mom's room for what felt like days while my dad's family came. My aunt and grandma took care of me while they planned out his funeral and the whole time I didn't go to school. I also still didn't cry. I saw my mom cry so much that I myself couldn't bring myself to cry. During the funeral one of our family friends told me and assured me that my dad will always be with us and protect us forever. That was the first time that I cried after all that time it was around a week after he passed. I held it in for so long and when I got back to school it showed that I was not okay. I was broken because he was gone and he wasn't coming back.

I was brought over to the school counselor Mrs. Gorringe and she was the only one that helped me. I couldn't talk in a group therapy because I was shy. Instead of being asked by Mrs. Gorringe, "How are you feeling? Or do you want to talk about it" she instead just allowed me to talk about it and let out the pain. I continued to talk with her until I was in sixth grade; she helped me. But even if she helped me with the girls I was friends with, some of them didn't understand the pain. One of my best friends had the nerve to say to me, "Why are still talking about your dad? He's dead, get over it." I saw so many of my friends go because I was fully over what happened to me.

There was only one thing that really helped and that was reading the Harry Potter series. That is the book series Mrs. Gorringe suggested for me to read because she knew I would relate to the main character. I related to him so well. I thought he was like a brother in my eyes. In Junior High, I became friends with more people and I was happier with them and they are now my best friends and my group. They understand how upset I was and how bad everything was when I lost my dad. Without them and my mom, I wouldn't be as strong as I am today.