Pang--Dani

Looking down at my dainty fingers full of numbness -- wanting the need to wrap my
arms around my father and never let go. After what seems to be an eternity, I’m beyond delighted when I open my front door and suddenly see his smile which seems to cause the sun to shine and the birds to sing their songs of assuage. 

The first month is about getting to know his adventures and holding him close as I attempt to piece together a bond that is tenacious. Having him wake up from nightmares as he visions his brother’s dying, not being able to reconnect with their families. It’s filled with candor and pinky promises of a better future, assuring that I will be able to get to know my father. 

The second month is a little more challenging, as his nightmares worsen and seem like a complete reality in his PTSD infected mind. I try to speak to him and comfort him by vowing that if he looks in my eyes, everything around him won’t be as disastrous as it is on the battlefield. I hold his hand with one of mine while I then hold out one of my other fingers for his finger to touch. It was at that moment when touching one another’s fingertip, became a symbol

of “i love you”. In this month, it becomes clear that he is finally home with his two daughters that never want him to leave again. 

The third month. It’s filled with laughter and sweet serenity that was longfully craved while I grew up. Yet of course, time seemed to take its toll again after my father spent every waking second of being alive this time, to get to fully know my sister and I. As having lived through it my whole childhood life, I knew that soon my father’s vacation would come to an end. 

The fourth, fifth, and sixth months flew by as I counted the days since I saw his gleaming smile once again. A call was made. A daughter’s heart shattered knowing fully well that her source of happiness was once again going to be taken from her. I always thought, “what’s the whole point of him coming back again, just to leave a few months later?” I looked at him. Standing mute. I saw his damaged soul piercing from his eyes onto my fraudulent smile. I walked up to him and held out my finger for the second to last time, as we arrived to the airport soon after for his departure. He is wearing his uniform with pride as he is preparing to help protect this country once again. 

A snapback to reality and I open my eyes brimming with tears streaming down my cheek. I’m still looking down at my dainty fingers, as I lift my head up to really focus on what is occuring. My dad has always taught me to be strong, but at that moment, I couldn’t follow that lesson. He sets me inside my mother’s car as she is about to drive away but stops himself just for a short while. It was the first time I saw my father cry. I gripped his fingers as my little hands

couldn’t fit his yet and held on tightly not wanting him to disappear again. As my mother starts driving away, I remember my hand sliding off of his touch and screaming from the top of my lungs that I love him. The tip of our fingers were the last to touch. And as we pulled away from his sight, I felt like half of me was absent. 

It is now April 2019, and I am overjoyed to say that I now know my father and I am thankful that I am his daughter. He taught me to always remain humble, don’t quit, work for what I want in life, compassion, basic manners, and most importantly, he has taught me how to love. I will soon be following in his footsteps, as i’m working on joining the U.S. Marine Corps and having honor, courage, and commitment. I hope that one day, he will be able to look at me in the eyes with happy tears, and say to me that he is beyond proud of the woman i’m becoming today, as he holds ME tight this time, not wanting to let me go.