I Am My Father's Daughter

Being the middle child has always been difficult for me. I always felt my brother, who was born 2-1/2 years before I was, got all the attention simply because he was the firstborn son. Six-and-a-half years after I was born my sister came along, and once again I felt she got all the attention because she was and always would be the baby.

Growing up as a middle child, I self-labeled myself as the black sheep of the family. Don't ask me why, I just did. I have always marched to the beat of a different drummer. But I was daddy's girl. And that meant so much more to me than being stuck in the middle.

When I hit those miserable teen years everything changed. I distanced myself from both my parents, especially my father. I wasn't a bad kid by any means, but I wasn't an angel either. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I could no longer live under the same roof, so at the age of 19 I married the first guy that would have me as his wife. I met him toward the end of September and married him mid-January.

My father didn't like him, but he tolerated him as did the rest of my family. I didn't care. He was mine and I was going to change him and the way people felt about him. It never happened. Eventually we had a daughter. She is the best thing that happened to me because shortly after she was born I got a divorce. It was one of the smartest things I ever did.

While all that was happening, the distance between my father and I grew even farther. You see, my family was never the kissy-huggy type. We never said those three magic words to one another: I love you. Not once do I ever remember either of my parents telling me that. And I didn't crave that while I was little because I didn't know any better. And I never witnessed it in other families, so I didn't know what I was missing. I never had to feel sorry for myself because of it.

I remarried. And the love of my life is the one who taught me to use those words; not only between the two of us but to other family members as well. When we married it was my decision to have my father walk me down the aisle. I didn't have that for my first marriage, even though I was married in church. It was a simple private ceremony after services with only our parents in attendance. My second marraige had all the trappings but on a small scale.

Just a few months prior to my second marriage, I was able to finally let down my defenses and give my parents a hug or a kiss and tell them I loved them. And do you know what? They responded, and I was finally able to hear each one tell me they loved me. And it happened every time we parted.

My father adored my current husband and treated him like a son. We visited them quite often and the two of them would sit and talk for hours on end. It was such a peaceful time in my life and had finally brought me full circle.

I loved my mother, but it is my father I miss the most. It's so very hard to shake that daddy's girl feeling once they are gone.

My father and I were like two peas in a pod when I was little. I followed him everywhere so they tell me. As I grew up I realized that I had more of his traits than either of my siblings. My brother looks like my father today and he has some of his traits but he is more like Mom's side of the family. My sister is 100% like Mom's side. Today I am proud to say that, yes, I am my father's daughter...in more ways than one.