Cover Story

Missing Dad

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I sit across from my best friend, Kayla, at my favorite fast-food Mexican restaurant in the entire world, Taco Bueno. In the midst of talking about my mom, Kayla says, “Wait, I want to get this straight—it’s your second stepdad?”

“Right,” I answer and run through my list of dads again. “My biological one, I’ve never met. My first stepdad is so far out of the picture it’s not even funny. And now it looks like my second one is on his way out, too. He’ll soon be another ex-stepdad.”

My mom is about to encounter divorce numero tres, and the potential loss of this stepdad has really turned my world upside down.

Kayla looks at me with one of those Precious Moments looks, the kind that exudes comfort and sympathy. Since ceramic dolls don’t talk, the eyes are forced to say it all.

“Yeah,” I say, reading that sympathetic look. “Not having a real dad is tough.”
A Taco Bueno employee barks our food order from the counter, and Kayla offers to go up and get it—which is great and all, except that it leaves me alone with all my thoughts circling around being “dadless.”

It is tough, you know? I mean, not having a dad can be heartbreaking. It’s weird because I thought I’d outgrow my longing for a father, but I haven’t.

I’ll be honest, I dread holidays because I always wonder, What do I write in this birthday card to this stepdad? Or should I give him the generic shirt or get a really meaningful, so-glad-you’re-a-part-of-my-life gift for him for Christmas?

And what in the world do I do for Father’s Day when he’s only played the father-knows-best role for me for a handful of years?

But it’s not just the holidays that get to me. I still wonder what it would feel like to have a dad and be his little girl and have him give me away at my wedding. And what would it feel like to have one of those exclusive father-daughter moments, so tender I’d cherish it forever?

That whole world of fatherly love—the one missing in my life, the one that yearns to be filled—feels universes away. Usually, when I see a girl holding her dad’s hand or sitting on her dad’s lap, the entire concept seems completely foreign to me, and I ask myself, Is that what it’s supposed to look like? Is that what you’re supposed to do with a dad? But along with so many other people, I’ll never know.

Kayla sets a tray on our table and scoots into the seat across from me. “Do you want to pray?” she asks.

“Sure.” I bow my head. As I pray, I realize to whom I’m praying. My perception of the truth has been jaded—I do have a Dad. I’ve always had one. My dad is my heavenly Father.

I’ve heard that God can fill any void, even one as monstrously big and immensely important as this one. I’ve heard that He fills all the empty spaces in our hearts better than any person on this earth can. All I have to do is let Him heal those wounds, right?

I mentally hand over to God my hurts and longings, asking Him to fill my empty spaces with His love.

I wonder if my throat will still bunch up and tears will still push to the surface when I see that commercial with the little girl dancing on her dad’s feet, only to have the scene transition to the grown-up girl dancing with her dad at her wedding.

Midprayer I start getting lipquakes and choke on a massive lump in my throat. OK, so maybe it’ll take some time to heal. I guess most paper cuts don’t heal overnight, so I shouldn’t expect to be instantly 100 percent OK. I hurry and finish praying. I hope Kayla hasn’t noticed my quivering voice.

I chomp on my Muchaco. Nothing like a little Taco Bueno to put a smile on my face. Yummy!

“How is it?” I ask with my mouth full.

Kayla’s practically devoured her Party Burrito in three bites. “M-m-m.”
As soon as we finish eating, we’ll go back up and order our favorite part of eating at Taco Bueno—the Churros and Cheesecake Chimichangas! We like to save the best for last.

Satisfyingly finishing my Muchaco, I allow myself to revisit the thoughts of God filling my void. I imagine Him looking at me, smiling in a way that tells me He’s proud of me, just like a dad would. Then I get a feeling, almost like sprinkles of shivers dancing down my arms and swirling in my heart. It’s the most amazing love from Him.

I realize God can complete me when I rest my heart and life in His hands and His truth. Just like in 2 Corinthians 12:9, where it says that His grace is sufficient for me, and that His power is made perfect in my weakness.

“So,” Kayla says, wadding up her second Party Burrito wrapper, “do you want to talk about it? You know, about maybe losing this stepdad, too?”

I smile at her. “Nah. I think I’ll be OK.” Actually, I know I will be.

Melissa O’Reilly is an award-winning writer who lives in California.
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Comments

alafita
hi MY NAME IS DAVID ALAFITAI AM FROM THE CYTY MEXICO SEVEN DAY
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smiley
wow this is so similar to my story. The difference is that i have my biological father with me but its like if i had never had him because he has never been there for me or spend time with me so i figure god is my only fahter and the only one i need
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Faith101
like smiley, this story is really similar to mine. my biological father was never there and it used to really hurt whenever i saw my friends with their fathers and never really knowing what that would feel like. but, praise God cause He's put many guys in my life.....they tend to fill the void at times. After a while however, i came to the realization that God is the best "dad" that anyone could ever have. cause he'd never hurt you, he'd never let you down, he's always lookin out for the best for you and best of all, he's always there. :)
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