My dad died when I was 8 years old. I only remember little snippets of of him, and they look like old polaroid pictures in my mind. I remember he was intelligent and soft spoken. I remember him in his Army uniform carefully polishing his black boots with black polish that he warmed up with a bic lighter. I remember my dad taking me to collect caterpillars in an old mayonnaise jar watching them spin their cocoons, then later releasing them as beautiful monarch butterflies. I remember I was a daddy’s girl.

Every night we’d have this ritual when he’d tuck me into bed.

“Goodnight, I love you..”
“I love you”
“I love you too”
“I love you more.”
“No, I love you morer”

When my dad got sick, no one could really tell me what was going on. He would go in and out of the hospital. At that time, because my dad was in the military, he’d be away weeks at a time, so I was used to it. When he would come home from the hospital it was like he was back from one of his Army trips, except he wouldn’t have a souvenir like a large Turkish dollar the size of stationary or a doll dressed in a kimono. He’d just be very tired sleeping on the couch the whole day with my mom feeding him and fussing over him. Then one day, my dad got a fever so bad, my aunt and my uncle had to fill our bathtub with ice and have him lay in it while they called the Veteran’s Hospital. I am not sure, but I think that was the last time I ever saw my dad.

I read a book recently called The Loss that Is Forever and it basically talks about how children develop ptsd after losing a parent. I never thought that I was that particularly affected by my dad’s death, but lately I’ve been realizing that the trauma I experienced has been affecting me throughout my life. This is especially apparent in my relationship with men.

Men, in my mind, always leave. Don’t get close to a man, because they will disappear.

In my relationship, I was always waiting for them to disappear. And because I knew they would leave, I would not let myself get too close to them, and I would always be prepared.

One time after not hearing from AM for four days, I wrote him off as gone and I was devastated. He clearly died- or maybe ghosting me. AM texted me after a few days apologizing and explaining that he got caught up working on a big painting- and when I said “I thought you were ghosting me” He asked, “Why would I do that?” He’d been consistent for 2 straight years and wouldn’t just disappear. “I don’t know..” I replied, “I just feel like you might disappear.” He didn’t understand that they all eventually disappear, and you will too, I wanted to add. Sometimes, I like to delete his contact information on my phone, just to prepare myself. My therapist made a really sad face when I told her that. I know it’s sad, I thought to myself, but I just don’t want to be surprised… again.