My dearest father,

From the moment I heard your voice over the phone,

I instantly knew I was Daddy's Girl, even though I don't remember you holding me.

The love you expressed without saying a word closed the distance between us.

When we talked and began to catch up on our lives, in those compressed moments, I again knew without a doubt I was Daddy's Girl.

I miss you terribly. That first phone call filled a void in me that I never knew existed.

I knew in my heart we had a short time together, but I still wanted to hold on to you for as long as I was able.

When you died, I cried my heart out. Not because you were free from sickness, but because that void reappeared again for a while.

You can sing again without pausing to stop for a labored breath. I am happy.

I'm even happier your songs are carried on the wind; they reach me when I need it most. It is then I know that I'm Daddy's Girl.

I love you.

It has been ten years since I received that horrible late night phone call, and it is forever etched in my memory; Also etched in my memory is the moment when we first met. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even Gram was crying a little.

I wrote this letter/poem to my father over a week ago. I was the oldest of six children, and the only girl. It was only after we met face to face that I learned more truth behind what went on all those years ago. Dad wanted to keep me, and raise me, but my mother would have none of it. She told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to find me until I turned sixteen.

Thank God my grandmother answered all my questions about him over the years with honesty. She brought me home from the hospital and raised me until her death in 1999.

The events leading up to that first meeting were nothing short of synchronous. In June of 2002, he was in town for a funeral and he called our house to see if by chance he could speak to me, and he did. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable; I was nervous and excited as we arranged to meet in about an hour.

I paced the living room in my power wheelchair for what seemed like an eternity, and then I saw his car pull in the driveway. As he came up the ramp, I paused long enough to speak to him and then we hugged one another tightly, tears streaming down both of our faces.

The rest of the reunion went by in a blur, and all too soon, it was time for him to leave. A few months later, we were reunited again by phone, and I knew in my heart that he didn't have long to live. We talked at least twice a week until his death in February of 2003.

The whole experience of meeting my father and then losing him shortly after, taught me that life is precious and not to take your loved ones for granted. Cherish them and spend as much time with them as you can. This way, you can create even more memories to hold on to.