Hello Celebritys

Yesterday, in my Educational Psychology class we were talking about Fathers and the role they have with children. My teacher posed the question of: "When you were younger did you father ever encourage you not to cry, like you should be "tuff"?"

The class was somewhat unresponsive, with a couple answers here and there. I'm usually the one to talks in this class, being that its rather small, I feel obligated to do so at times, so there isn't the awkward silence. I could feel my teacher staring at me, expecting a response. Yet, as soon as she said the word father, I looked down and kinda tuned her out.

This is a typical reaction from me when someone starts talking about their Father. Natural habit I suppose. She just kept staring. Her gaze completely focused on me.. She is wondering why I haven't spoken up.

and then she did it... she called my name.

"Rasha, what do you think about this? Did your Father encourage you not to cry or was he supportive when you were a child?"

I felt like I got kicked in the stomach. I felt like I couldn't find the air and I couldn't breathe. I kinda wanted to punch her, although it was defiantly not her fault, after all she doesn't know.

I finally caught my breathe, which had seemed to be five minutes after she posed the question and I mustered out these words:

"My Daddy passed away when I was very young"

There it is... That look, that look I despise. The look that is the reason, I don't bring it up... Followed by the words, I can not stand to hear.

"Oh, I am so sorry"

She felt terrible and I felt terrible. The class fell silence and I felt awkward and very uncomfortable, like I was the little girl who just watched her dog get ran over.

"Don't apologize. My Daddy is my Angel who is there for me every moment of the day and although I had a very short time with him, I do not doubt one bit, he would encouraged me to not cry. Of course, he wouldn't want to see me hurt, but he would be there for the pain. Just like he is now."

Most days I am grateful. Most days I consider myself the lucky one. Most days, I feel sorry for the rest of you. Sure, my Daddy isn't tangibly present like some of yours, but he is there for me. Constantly. Side by side, everywhere I go. But, there are always those days, those days where someone ask the wrong question and I get that look... the look that reminds me I lost something. The look that reminds me I am not whole... and then I feel sorry for myself. I feel envious of you guys. I feel ungrateful.

Then I close my eyes, and I see him. I see us. I know we will be together again someday, and that day, will be the most perfect day ever. + That day will be the day, I meet my Angel.