A GIRL'S FIRST LOVE

It's her father.
The first arms to hold her.
The first lips to kiss her.
The first hand to touch her.
The first feet to run with them.
I believe every father is special for every daughter in their own way.
He's so special that probably half of girls hope to find a man like their fathers to be a father for their children.
My father, was very special.
He's a brave, strong, tough, lovely, caring, kind, warm man.
He built me swings to play with.
He taught me to ride a bicycle.
He ran after a dog which chased after me and made me cry.
He celebrate every single birthday I've had in my first 8 years.
My father was my everything.
I think it's highly unlikely for me to love another man bigger than how I love my father.

Unluckily, God loves him much much much more than I do.
My father left me when I was 8, precisely in 25 April 2000.
Do you know how it felt to be left by a father while he was the center of your world?
It's painful.
I was 8, but I still can feel the pain until now.
It's like, holding to a single strong rope and know that it won't break but then you loses grip suddenly.

I was broken hearted.
The most hurtful I've ever been in my life.
Probably that's why I don't cry much when I was sad now.
Nothing as hurtful, or nothing nearly as hurtful as losing your father when you were in love with him.

At that time, I was mad at God.
I was mad because I was sure I loved and took a great care of my dad.
More than any kid.
And there were children who don't treat or love their fathers as much as I love my dad.
So why God took my dad instead?
I remember I skipped several weeks at school.
I remember I still waited for him to pick me up after school.
I remember I woke up crying because I just miss my dad and I want him to come back.

But he won't.
He won't come back.
And I must accept it.
Sometimes I wish he was still alive somewhere.
Sometimes I wish a man would appear in front of me and he was my father.
But it won't happen. I know it won't.

For the last (nearly) 14 years, I believe I only had dream about him for 2 or 3 times.
Sometimes I feel sad because I want to see his face, hug, talk, or touch him even it's only in a dream.
But people say that when we don't dream about the dead people, it means that they happy in there.
I hope it's true.
I hope he's happy in where he is now.
I hope it means I'm being a good enough girl that he's not worry about me.

But that doesn't mean I will stop remembering him.
I won't.
I will always spend a little time like this to write about him.
I will always have my tears run down because of talking about him.
I will always stay awake sometimes because I miss him too much I can't go to sleep.
I will always remember his birthday, and his deathday. Now that sounds scary.
I will not be able to move on from the 8-years old me who just lost his dad at 5 am in the morning.
That will always be a part of me.