_posted in dayedayerocks | 22 January 2008

While I was driving home this afternoon I couldn't get my mind off Heath Ledger and it wasn't the possibility that he most likely died of an overdose, intentional or not. When we heard about it in the office we were all shocked and then came the jokes and snarky remarks. We hide our meanness in wit.

All we know for sure is a little girl is never going to know her father.

When she's old enough she's going to search for every bit of information she can find about him on the Internet. She's going to search for articles or video that talk about him being a dad and what that meant to him. She's going to try to find out what his favorite things were, places he loved the most. She'll wonder her entire life which books he would have read to her and what it would have been like to go to the zoo with him, the planetarium, the circus, to the ocean for the first time.

I know this because I did it. I grew up with grandparents who did a wonderful job. My grandmother was the emotional support I needed, my grandfather the economic. I have no memories of my grandfather ever hugging me as a child. I do remember a hug the day I graduated from high school, as well as the day I hopped in my car to drive to California a few years ago. I can count the number of hugs I remember from him with my own two hands. My grandmother on the other hand, never let a day go by without a hug. I remember them all.

I also remember finding my baby book when I was in 4th grade and there on the first page was my father's name. I found out he was in the military and he was stationed in Fort Benning and Panama. For some reason I had it in mind that he served in Vietnam. Forget that it was impossible due to dates not matching up, but when I was in 6th grade and we went to DC to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial I looked for his name. I was disappointed that it wasn't there, because the only thing that can keep a father from his daughter is death. Right?