I was only 13 when I was put in life threatening danger.
I had to stay up every night waiting for my dad to come home from his second shift job.
I had to learn how to shoot my dad's rifle, disarm and detain, and knock someone out long enough to get away safely.
"Where were the adults," you ask?
With me. My step mom was with me.
But I could barely keep her from hurting herself, so I also had to be the adult.
Dad's gun was kept on the coffee table next to the couch where I slept.
Always within reach.
I've seen my dad beaten and broken.
He was supposed to be the protector.
When we moved away from that place, the people who were trying to kill us followed.
And shortly after we moved, a day after to be precise, they came into our old apartment. Kicked down our old door with their weapons and guns.
They were looking to kill us. All of us.
Me, my 2 week old brother, my dad, my dogs...
We moved to East Troy, in a small 2 bedroom apartment.
They took out my dad's truck mirrors, followed us to Waukesha,
followed us everywhere.
We had our own personal stalkers.
Finally, two years later, my dad was out at the Kwik Trip down the road a ways.
Craig or Crispy or whoever was there.
He saw my dad and punched him in the face. Right inside of the gas station in front of people.
He told my dad this:
"You're dead, Travis. Fucking dead,"
I was at school when all this happened. I wanted to come home.
I wasn't there to protect my family.
I felt so bad.
I needed my dad; I needed to see that he was okay.
But Mandie said to stay at school;
I was safer there.
I cried for about two hours.
Now I'm seventeen.
I'll be eighteen very soon.
Things have settled. They've left us alone and fled the southern part of Wisconsin.
But still, I think about how I couldn't protect my dad that day.
I still feel useless and like I could have done more...
He's still around obviously, but he might not be if he wasn't threatened in public.
When I was very little, my dad used to make up songs about what he was doing around the house.
Getting ready to go fishing, he'd make up a song.
Making lunch; he'd make up a song.
And once, he was making coffee, and I vaguely remember it.
My dad was holding me while he was pouring the coffee into the coffee filter,
The water in the coffee pot.
I remember him looking at me and smiling and then he sang:
"I love coffee," he'd sing and I'd echo with what he'd sing.
"Coffee every day,"
"When I wake in the morning,"
"It gets me on my way."
My "daddy" never gave me what a dad should give his daughter
I wish I knew how it felt to be daddy's little girl
To be protected, in his arms, like a beautiful sea shell
My "daddy" broke my heart before a guy even had a chance to
Now I have this need to be adored, because you never cared to
My "daddy" was a drunk, he chose liquor over his teeth
He chose it over his son, my sister, then he chose it over me
You layed in the hospital bed, pleading for forgiveness
Your dark hair had disappeared, all you could see was your blood
red, thick, dripping to the floor
It reminds me of what my heart looked like when you grabbed me and threw me on the wall
It left a bruise. A daily reminder of what you did to me
Now I struggle with the desire of a man leaving his markings
I would be his, I'd be his only lover and he would be proud of me, tell me I did good, that no one else could do it better and that I pleased and pleasured him as much as I possibly could.
My "daddy" treated mommy like property. I layed awake at night hearing profanities
My "daddy" once told me he didn't care if he died
It got me thinking, then why should I?
My "daddy" is so stupid, he doesn't even realize that I have found a man who has shown me what love is.
He has shown me a gentle hand, a mind that listens, and a heart that loves me. As he touches my body, I feel like he's curing all the depression and anger you left inside me.
Now my heart is aching for him, I don't know if he wants me, but at least I know he loves me. And one of these days, I will be out of breath and panting. I'll scream his name and referring to him I'll say "Oh God, daddy."
I'm not ready to let get maybe you are
I'm not ready to let go and face the harsh truth
I wish you were still alive
It seems like yesterday That I held your hand
And you breathed your last as we hold our breath
Your eyes close as ours are brimming with tears
Your machine goes silent
I'm not ready to let go
I feel like you are still next to me
Holding my hand when I was little
When I fall off my bike you rush to my side
When I go to prom You scared that boy beyond
When I'm walking down the aisle
You say I look beautiful
Now here we are a
Mistakes have been made
And there you are
Daddy where are you
I miss you
I've grow up in this empty white halls
I know you pretend your ok
But I know your not
I shall not let go
For you have a special place in my heart
I love you
Till we see each other again
Reunited in Joy
i wish to reveal a most precious thing
as Spring has begun
my dearest Daddy’s Birthday is done
he is not a man of celebrations
i want to disclose this personal’s manifest
as his blueprint, i am really beatific
i am very fortunate to be able to recollect
all and everything
to be your beloved daughter
is one most precious and delightful evidence
such a coziest feel to have you in my presence
you embody all that is calm and peaceful
no other impervious Daddy then you, my handsome sensitive
your BirthDay, dearest Daddy is never nebulous
the reputations you left us are all fabulous
you told me tales, they are in fact realities
you are one of a kind, your mind so sublime
you constantly cared and loved me, i am your prime
i love to tell superlatives about you
you deserve the most, dearest Daddy,
i am very proud of you, of your humor and your visions
your cartoons, drawings, and your fascinating paintings
you conjured magic in all your writings
C.C. was your weekly talkings
Charlie was your weekly walkings
in the world of Charlie Chan
i am very fond of you, my very talented Daddy
i know your world too, owned by you as a stage performer….
i remember everything, every detail hidden in my mind
i wish to reveal the most precious thing
last night i went to your place, i was wondering
you were not there, i started sobbing….
© Sylvia Frances Chan
21st March 2017
"Where do babies come from?"
One day you'll see a cutie
And little glitters will tickle
From your chest to your toes
Days will go by holding hands
Giving Eskimo kisses
Passing panties underneath
Family Thanksgiving tables
Until waking up with the cutie
Is the most stable part of your day.
Safe, like together in this bed
You two are a fortress,
Free, like you could run into the street
And he would stop traffic by breathing
To protect you
You'll sit across from him one night
Blushing over your dinner
Stir fry of everything you pointed at In the grocery store.
And through all that blush you'll ask
If he will be your daddy.
He will stand.
Cross the room
Kneel by you
Take your hand
When he smiles into you
Little glitters will tickle
From your chest to your toes
When he says: "Yes, Princess"
That's how babies are born.
it's been five months
since you left
where could you possibly be
what realm are you venturing
or are you sleeping tightly
i couldn't bear this world
where adversaries just thrust up
from the mounds of the earth
and spawn from one another
but still you said,
this world always deserves
i could've asked you more
talked to you more
wrote with you more
and drink with you more
i wanted to tell you
about my cold beer
and the people i've met
i wanted to tell you
and how i wish you've met