I felt terrified, accompanied by a panic I’ve never experienced. I was frantically searching – screaming your name, and calling out for you. I felt like a failure – as my only meaningful purpose on this earth is to protect and love you – to ensure you have every opportunity to succeed. I felt empty inside – sobbing uncontrollably – as I know I can’t exist, if you don’t. You are such a massive piece of my heart, and without you, I am not me. I am something else – an empty vessel of sorts…aimless, lost and angry.
Where are you? What happened? Who fucked up? If anyone touches a hair on your head, their head will roll.
A dream. No, a nightmare. The worst kind. I can handle monsters, and demons during Rapid Eye Movement. I can fight off sharks – and run away from Frankenstein’s – but I can’t withstand the thought of losing you – that is my greatest fear. My biggest worry.
Lila,
I had a nightmare over the weekend that you were lost – and somehow, during the horrifying experience, I feared that you were taken. It’s hard to describe the emptiness I felt inside – and when I woke up, I sent you a message to ensure that you were safe. I kept falling back asleep, and reengaging in the nightmare, hoping that I would find you – and at some point, I did. The nightmare still haunts me days after – and I can’t wait to pick you up from school today. I want to give you a big Dad hug.
Since you were born, my greatest fear has been that something would happen to you – whether it be an injury, an illness, or god forbid, an abduction. I used to rush you to the emergency room when you ran a fever – and checked on you each night (and surprisingly still do) to make sure you were still breathing. I suppose it’s part of my OCD – but the thought of your safety and well-being has been an obsession of mine for 10.5 years. I suppose that this obsession, at times, manifests into nightmares.
As you get older, I am trying to find a balance. I used to ask you to call me on your way to after-school program – so that I know you got there safely – and up until third-grade, I would call the school to confirm that you arrived. The teachers would get a bit annoyed – but hearing them say “yes, Lila is here” put my mind and heart at ease. I think that my fear also stems, in part, from you being with me half-time – I worry about you when you’re with your mom and step-dad, but I try to believe they take care of you just as well as I do.
Now, as you are on the brink of middle-school – I must trust that I’ve taught you well, and that you know how to protect yourself – including not putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations. We talk about never engaging with a stranger – and if someone makes you uncomfortable, you run or fight. We talk about how women must be more aware of their surroundings – as there are some creepy, dangerous men walking around. I don’t tell you these things to scare you – I speak with you about these things to prepare you.
At 2:40pm, I still want to make that call to your school – but I must let go slowly, and trust you. I know that you walk from class to the after-school program with your friends. I know that you’re smart enough not to place yourself in a dangerous situation – and I have faith that you will inform me if someone makes you feel scared, awkward or uncomfortable. I know that you trust me to protect you – and nothing makes me feel as good as hearing you say “I trust you, Dad.” Or, my favorite, “I love you, Dad.”
I’m proud of you, kid. Always and forever. So far, you have been kicking-ass in 5th grade – and as you are challenged more academically and socially – I am also ready to take on the challenge of being a parent to young-lady going on the brink of adolescence.
To My Kids - The Thoughts of Your Father 