Hey Daddy

Letter 8

Hey Daddy, 

Sitting here, writing this in floods of tears. Today marks August 1st, and I know it shouldn't hurt but it hurts so badly because in 24 days I'm going to be 21. I'm going to be an adult. In American terms. Cause, you know, no one can drink over there until they're 21.. But, it freaking hurts so damn bad. I miss you. I miss you more than words can say and I wish there was a rewind button on life because I need you here. 

I just wish I could hear your voice one last time. I wish I could hold you again. To feel one of your teddy bear hugs, to hear your laugh whenever you make fun of me. I'd give anything just to have you back, to even be your carer when mum was working. 

I keep trying to find someone to blame, and I know it wasn't my fault but I keep blaming myself for it and I know it's wrong but I can't help it. I know it was the hospital's fault, with the stupid junior doctor not doing anything to help you but somehow I just can't stop thinking that if we'd just stayed. If we just stayed and not cared about anything else. If I wasn't in a pickle with my phone being dead and everything else. I blame me and I don't know how I can stop. 

Even though I can't see you anymore, and you don't know what I'm doing with life, I just want to make you proud. I want you to be happy with what I'm doing with life. You are my hero, dad. You suffered with so much and kept going, and that's one of the things I loved about you. Another included your crazy antics when you were in your younger years. Gosh, I still remember the story of you falling asleep in the phone box when you were drunk. I still remember you and mum telling me about the story of how you were at your mum's and your ex-wife walked by and you shouted out the window to her, something rude. 

We still haven't spoken Uncle Tam or Uncle Jimmy. And we just can't. We just can't hear their voices without thinking it's you on the other end. Seeing the pictures of you, Auntie Anne and Uncle Tam together, makes me miss you all even more. It'll be 11 years at the end of September since Auntie Anne passed, and even that's hard to fathom. 

I miss you. And I love you. So damn much. 

Your loving daughter, 

Marriann xx