Daddy's Nicki

I started taking an English 1010 class at the community college. I really enjoy it because I love writing. It's a good escape for all that is going on in my world .... Our first paper was a "reflections paper". The paper had to tell a story of something or someone that can reflect why you are who you are... My teacher read the paper and she said it was "beautifully written because it's heart-breaking and honest". She also told me that she loves my dad :)... I guess you can be the judge of why she would say that.

Any ways, I figured I would share my paper with all of you because it shows a glimpse of what my life inside my head has been like for the past couple of months.... Things are tough, but are getting easier. All I can say is that I have a wonderful family <3



Daddy's Nicki

Everything that I had known for the past two years had just shattered into a million pieces. These walls filled with memories that I had created this house that I made a home with nick-knacks and keeps sakes, was no longer mine. This furry pig dog with the wrinkled face that was always dripping with slobber would no longer snore and hog half of my bed. And these girls, the olive skinned ball of fire and the green eyed toe head that could have passed as my own, would no longer be a part of my weekly ritual. This home and this family that I loved, was no longer mine.

With one last glance from his tear filled cobalt eyes, he walked away from our life. He couldn’t handle watching me remove the proof of my existence from the space that we called ours. And in that moment, a slight breeze of fresh cut grass wisped through what was once my bedroom window only to make me realize that I was broken.

I sat there sobbing uncontrollably, listening to my thoughts screaming in my head. Is this really the end? How could it be? What do I do now? Where do I go? How can two people who aren’t angry at each other just walk away from their life together? I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to explain how my life crumbled before me unexpectedly at 4:30 in the morning on Easter Sunday because not even I could process it.

I don’t even remember picking up the phone and dialing the numbers, but as soon as I heard my dad’s voice, I felt like a breath of fresh air had just been forced down my throat. He could hear me struggling to find the right wording as I battled my lungs for air. “Are you ok? What do you need me to do kiddo?” he said in a sympathetic tone. “I need you to clear a space in the spare bedroom closet. I’m coming home.’’

“You will have a place to put your things when you get here. If you need me to come get you, I will.” He reassured me. I told him I would be there in a few hours and that I loved him. I didn’t want him to see me in this state. I didn’t want him to see me remove myself from this closet and these shelves in the sloth like manner I was moving in, in order to keep me away from this home that I was not ready to leave even though it was no longer mine.

After two hours and what seemed like 137 trips to my car of just clothes, I hugged my pig dog one last time and told him I would come see him soon. I took one last look at the home I created and the dog with a face that only its mother could love and quietly shut the door behind me. I wouldn’t be coming back this time, not as my home anyway.

As I passed church after church filled with families dressed in their Sunday best, I couldn’t help but wonder how we were going to explain this to the girls. How do you explain to a five and eleven year old that “It just isn’t working”? How do you make them understand that you still love them and not feel awful for being the second “mother” to leave their home? I felt like a failure knowing that the one thing I had been most afraid of coming into this relationship, was about to come crashing down on me harder than anything else I had ever experienced. I was breaking up with three instead of one.

I would no longer get to do their hair pretty, or read them bedtime stories. I would no longer get to watch “girly movies” or get those hugs where they “spider monkey” themselves around you, after you have just caught them in mid air, just to tell you that they loved you. I would no longer get to add pictures to “the shrine” I had created for them in on my walls at work. I was no longer “daddy’s Nicki”. I was now just simply, Nicki.

As I creeped my jeep into the driveway, I could see the questions bulging from my mother’s mouth as she stood at the garage door landing. She could sense her puffy eyed, emotionally drained baby wanted nothing more than the assurance that everything would be ok. I get that from my mom, the wanting to fix everything nature. I am most like her. But that day, I needed the one person who loved his girls most. I needed my dad.

As I hugged my dad he said nothing. He just rubbed my back as he has ever since I was a little girl. I love that most about him I think. His calm nature makes it easy to know that he cares without even saying a word. Even in times when I have disappointed him most, he hardly says anything. He waits for you to come to him; I wish I were more like him in that way.

I dreaded moving my life into the room that was once my sister’s. I felt sick to my stomach because I was doing the one thing that I feared most. I was leaving the one person and the loves of his life because somehow, we were no longer the loves of each other’s life.

Arm load after arm load my mother, my sister five months pregnant with twins, and myself piled my clothes on the bed that had become foreign to me. In the midst of worrying about where I am going to put everything I hear my dad say from the kitchen, “Hell, I’m going to have to build you a storage room just to fit all your damn shoes.” I reply quickly with “No, that is what the garage shelves are for! And if you think this is bad, wait until you see all of the crafting projects I have accumulated over the past year!”

I reflect back to that memory, knowing now what my dad was trying to get across to me without even realizing he was doing it. My family will always be there for me and as I get older, I realize more and more how much I really need my parents. I love my mother for always wanting to make sure that I am ok. I love that I get the “Let’s fix it!” nature from her. And I love knowing that even when he doesn’t say anything; my dad shows me that he cares. In this case, love is clearing a space in your workshop to make room for your daughters crafting projects.