Daddyless Daughters: Navigating Loss and Nagging Thoughts

I think the last time I saw Roscoe (that’s his real name) I was 8 or so. I can barely recall. We were at my aunt's house, and he came and took me and my sister to the zoo.

I don't remember being at the zoo, but I do remember the ride there. It was quiet and AWKWARD. I was sitting in a car with some other kid, who I didn't know and who was the son of a woman he was seeing.

Let’s just call him: Replacement Kid.

Almost immediately I didn't like Replacement Kid. How does my dad get a new kid, and he's only seen me like twice? It made absolutely no sense. I wondered what made him so different.

It was weird, and I was glad we didn't go on anymore fake family field trips. But, I also didn't see Roscoe again—not that I remember. I didn't hear from him either.

I saw his sister though—all the time. Or, at least I think it was his sister. She lived up on the hill behind my grandmother's house. That was always super odd to me.

We got child support checks throughout the years, so I knew he was alive. When I became a teenager, I thought maybe I would take him to court when I got older, and get all the back child support I was due.

But, I never did that. And, he never cared to see me. It's been about 30 years since the zoo.  

Where’s Roscoe

I've wondered why I've not heard from him. Is he sick? Is he in jail. Is he homeless. Is he dead? No. No. No. And, no. I found him on the internet. He’s alive, living in Tennessee.

And, because I'm super easy to find—thanks to my career as a journalist—there is no way he could ever say he didn’t know where I was. It is too easy to find me.

Sometimes, I think: I never did anything to this guy for him to just disappear. And, at this point, he couldn't use my mother as some stupid excuse. So, why hasn't he called?

Thanks to all of that, I have long held the idea that people cannot be trusted to stick around. Everyone leaves at some point. They leave or they die. I know, it's a sad way to think. But, it's true.

People can be trusted to think only about themselves – most of the time, and to act in their own best interest sometimes at the expense of others. It’s no surprise that I like my dogs more than I like most people.

Thanks, Roscoe.

No Honor for Lost Wishes

There is no honor in leaving your children behind. 

Every single father who has decided to leave his daughter does her a great disservice. She'll never have the prime example of unconditional love from a man who only wants the best for her.

She'll likely be wondering why she's not good enough. Not good enough for her own father, not good enough for any man she comes across. (And, these kinds of thoughts can lead to a whole lot of trouble, I know.)

You're growing up, doing the best you can, doing all that you can... and you still miss out. That’s just a fact. You don't get to be the kid you could have been. That person is a distant non-memory.

You’re lost and disenchanted, wondering and wandering.

It is something I wouldn’t wish for anyone.

A Life Reclaimed

There are plenty of women who, like me, have gone on to do great things despite their absentee fathers. But, we still have the same nagging, way-in-the-back-of-our-mind thought:

Where in the hell is he? Why isn’t he here?

I do wish little girls didn't have to grow up like this, and then grow into women who carry this around. It's a lot.

But, for all the daddyless daughters—keep your head up. You do not owe your absentee father that much real estate in your mind. His departure is his cross to bear.

That longing for something more can be reclaimed. You turn things around by grabbing your own compass, making new dreams and living a full life, unapologetically.

 It is not how you started in this life. But, how you finish it – period.

 Not knowing you, is truly his loss.

Joy Woodson, Misspacklight Editor