Personal Narrative: Daddy's Girl

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It was three days before the beginning of my junior year, and my sister was crying into the phone, desperately trying to wake me up. She kept wailing, “He won’t wake up, he won’t wake up!” At the time, I didn’t register what was happening and there was no way I could have prepared myself. Regardless of my preparedness, an hour later I was in the hospital being informed that the EMTs weren’t able to revive my dad, that he had passed that morning after he saw my mom off to work. Had you looked up “daddy’s girl” in the dictionary for the duration of first sixteen years of my life, you would have seen my face plastered next to the definition. I was an absolute daddy’s girl when I was young, because my mom worked late nights so I never saw her

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