I woke up today with a feeling that I wish I called you and told you how I am proud of my daughter. Although I never heard your voice before but I deeply missed it today.
#Father
It’s hard to say this out loud, but even as a grown woman, I feel that being raised without a father leaves a quiet void; something absent in both life and identity. At times, it feels like this kind of absence becomes part of how we’re shaped as human beings.
I’ve changed so much that I no longer feel like I have the luxury of venting when I’m down. My tears have dried up, and it feels like my feelings are always invalid to others.
As if memories live on a screen, waiting for a delete button…
when in reality, they live in pauses, reactions, comparisons, and all the moments that still echo long after the “click.”