There she was, my little girl, getting set to leave me.
Yeah, I know. As the cliche goes, she wasn’t really leaving me. But she was. It was her time, and she was grasping it. It was a moment she had worked hard for, and she was taking it. I was the nest and she was flying away. All I could do is watch.
Was it really, though, all I could do? Of course not. As a man in love with a woman, in this case a Dad in love with his Daughter, I could do quite a bit. I could encourage her. I could help her. When she looked back, I could be there. I could offer a whisper, or a shout, or I could just be silent. This wasn’t about me, so whatever decibel level she needed ,she would have. Otherwise, I’d keep my mouth closed and my heart open.
Her older sister had left too. That was different, though. Her sister stayed close to home, so was within a short drive should she need me. My Little Girl, in the truest form of her being her, decided to go out of State, a not-so-short 7 hour drive from home. This was her toughness showing itself, her badassness claiming ownership of her life, and her independence shouting “I will let you know when I need you.” It was all the things I loved about My Little Girl, and all the things the Dad in me wanted to change even as the heart in me refused to try.
I always just wanted her to be her. Nothing more, nothing less.
The Day Had Come
So now it was the day. The day I had both loathed and looked so forward to. This was the day when I could no longer protect her easily or be there quickly if she called. The day when all of my admiration of this warrior woman would mix with all my regrets as a Dad, when all of my hopes for My Little Girl meshed with all my fears of her departure. The day when she was to give birth to herself, and her parents would become more of passive spectators than of active participants.
I stood in amazement as she was born, first crowning and then flying out of the womb. I watched her fight for life her first 10 days of it, and stood in awe of this baby who was somehow strong, independent and never willing to give up. Memories sprouted of when she would push her older sister around on a Playskool trike even before she could walk on her own. Yeah, this was a badass.
I can remember those moments when she’d hide behind her mom or me, afraid of new parts of the world showing themselves. Then one day she took off, facing the world fearlessly with a field hockey stick in hand. She transformed from the shy girl who would never talk to anyone into a kick-ass champion almost overnight. This had been her way since the day of her birth, and this would be her way on the day she gave birth to herself.
I know this was not really the day she had given birth to herself. It was, however, the day I saw her as a woman, and as someone I knew would do well as long as the world did not try to fuck with her. She had birthed herself long before I saw it and in the gradual stages that led to this day. In this moment, though, my eyes were fully opened even if shrouded by tears.
The Lesson Learned
Like any good lesson, this one keep evolving and showing itself. She’s gone, but still here. She calls and texts and send pictures in her time, in her way, just like always. I am not there to protect her, but perhaps she doesn’t need my protection as much as she once did. I’m not there to help her when she calls, but I’ve realized she rarely called for help. She has always helped herself, and figured it out, and proved to us all that she is capable of being…her.
I’ve come to realize that my fear was not of her leaving the nest, but of my failing to be there should she need me. I feared not being needed, not that she wasn’t capable. My fears had little to do with her, they were all about what I saw as my own shortcomings.
Just as she has since the moment I knew she existed, she continues to teach me lessons. Her older sister started the process and her younger brother keeps it going, each of them teaching me in unique ways. Just like her sister, neither is my little girl anymore but both will always be My Little Girl. My son will always be My Boy, no matter how big and strong he gets. That’s the thing about being a Dad. As we get older we had better get wiser, or we will simply cease to exist. It’s also true of being a human. Sometimes we’re frail. Sometimes we’re even pathetic. Yet we are blessed with the power to learn lessons, to effect change in ourselves, and to change the world in our newness. We are fucking powerful that way, and sometimes…well usually…all we need is something to love to show us the way to greatness.