Daddy's Girl

My father wrote this song when I was about two years old. I remember hearing him sing it in church. My father's tenor voice is one of the most crystaline and piercing things in the world to my mind.

I remember he was accompanied by Fred.

I remember Fred's wife sang harmony.

I can't recall if my father ever had an affair with Fred's wife, but my mother didn't like her, and within five years both Fred and my father had divorced their wives.

There was a time when dad lead me and my sister in worship in our living room. Just us and mom singing. Before my brothers were born.

I used to walk into my parents' room and find my father on his knees in prayer.

I've seen my father's strong arms lifted towards the altar as he sang hallelujah to the Lord.

It's amazing to me that he's the man who taught me God.

Because he's the man who allowed Satan to use him as a tool against me. Or something like that.

I sent my dad a postcard with these lyrics on it. I don't know if he knew I knew all the words to any of his songs.

Today I received the most personal letter he's ever written me in my entire life.

He thanked me for reminding him of Jesus, though all I had said was the thieves only took his instruments, and not his music.

Some more of his mothers' jewelry was taken: I think the only thing dad has left of hers that's of any value are the diamonds in my ears (from her engagement ring).

He always forgets I wear them, though. I haven't taken them out in six years.

Not only did dad write me a letter, but he sent me the title to my car (a task I needed him to do for me last November), and then told me to let him know if there was anything else he could do.

He sent the title, and the letter, and then said he'd call me because he misses talking to me.

He signed it with love, and "dad".

I have actually received letters from him signed "Michael".

This letter from him makes me sort of ache. It hearkens me back to adoring him instead of being suspicious, like I ought to be.

I know from experience that his love is conditional.

His love comes with a price.

His love for me is not his highest.

His love disappears when he wants.

But it feels so good!

So right!

So complete.

If he were a boyfriend I'd know better than to accept his shit. But I was born with a hole in my heart for his love. I just have to make sure I don't fill that hole with the affection of men my age who are unfaithful alcoholics.