For Daddy, no one was ever going to be "good" enought. Daddy doesn't even believe he's "enough",in fact, Daddy knows he's not enough. It hurts to know that's how Daddy sees himself and it's so different from what I see. How?

It's always been amazing to me "how" we see the same thing so shattered. Human eyes are many different views. It may appear that we all have two of them, and the concept familiar: upper lids, lower lids, eyelashes, whites, and pupils, but no eye sees the same. We can be very similar but never the same.

Daddy is an amazing man. He's tall and solid. Daddy stands with great confident posture but still relaxed. You see our ancient taino warriors in his broad shoulders and corded neck. His copper colored skin, glows just like mine, in the sun. His eyes are keen, sharp and hold much bright intellect. Daddy makes things happen. He is a true self made man. Yet, Daddy believes he's not good enough to be the father to a daughter like me. 

Mom said, the moment Daddy saw me, that Daddy believed I was made for more. Daddy instantly lost confidence that day he wept holding me. All Daddy thought about was how his daughter would be smart and he didn't finish high school. He thought about how his daughter would be beautiful and he had an eating disorder. He thought about how his daughter would be strong and he used drugs to hide from pain.

So, Daddy built a wall around his walls and this wall was meant for me. He wanted to protect me from seeing that he would never be "enough", but with his words he told me how no other man would ever be "enough" too. He didn't mean to kill my hope or to hurt my feelings, but he believed in the strength he saw in my wide eyes as a tiny newborn. Daddy always believed in a strength in me that I never saw within; but Daddy knew it was there so Daddy didn't coddle me.

For a long time, I thought it was my fault why Daddy was stoic and harsh. I wondered if I judged Daddy when I looked at him. I wondered if I said things that were unfair. I wondered if I disappointed his hopes for me. I wondered ,if I could be more of the "little" girl he wanted, if he could be more or the father I needed.

I didn't have a long time as a "little" girl. I wasn't born to a life that allowed you to be "little". My tone had to be unwavering. My actions had to be unquestionable. I had to be sure when I was worried and I had to be logical when I was scared. I had to eat when I was full and not be hungry when I was ravenous. I had to be comfortable when I had nothing.

For a long time, I didn't realize that Daddy's  quick forehead kisses were because it took a confidence he didn't have to touch something he felt unworthy of making. I thought it was because he was careless, that the action was for the sake of appearance but no he felt I deserved better than him. I didn't realize that my father really admired me until my father was calling me to decide his life and death.

It was death that brought me that moment where a daughter embraces a father. It took death to shatter his lack of confidence and my self doubt. It took death to give the moment of life that says "hey, you're my little girl and I will always be here for you". It was death and the passing of Daddy that allowed Daddy to embrace me.

Every memory became suddenly clear. Every off putting moment suddenly showed obvious affection and effort. It was death that allowed a daughter to embrace the love of a father who felt unworthy of something he viewed as so precious, so God given, so progressive. My father was afraid to taint what he believed was such an improvement in generations that the best love he gave was his distance.

My father's absence was his embrace. His painful acceptance that he would never be "enough" was a beautiful yet painful sacrifice to give the space for me to become great. He didn't leave space to teach me addiction, to hide, to be relient, or to cower. He allowed me to grow without his curses and baggage. He gave me the space to be great. It's in my father's death that I was able to finally fall into Daddy's embrace.