User blog:AdorableEspurr193/Fatherhood

I walked to school.

It was a sunny day, and a very pretty one at that. But I knew that as soon as I would step into that building, all the other little girls would stick papers on me, that read the same thing, run and chant around me with the same sentence, tease me at lunch with the same saying.

Dumb deaf-father.

I looked over at the car that dropped me off. I saw my dad, sitting in the driver's seat. He looked at me and smiled his usual friendly smile, waving his usual goodbye wave.

I looked away.

Why couldn't I have a normal father? Why couldn't I have a dad like all the other dads? Someone who could understand me when I told them my troubles, someone who would listen when I spilled out my heart to them. Someone who could talk to me when they were concerned about my feelings, rather than doing some stupid little hand wave or something. Why couldn't my father be just... NORMAL??

I thought about what he said to me each and every day, with his little hand and facial signals.

Have a nice day at school!

So, how was your day?

What do you want for dinner?

Goodnight!

I thought about the way he smiled, when he told me not to listen when the girls bullied me.

And I kept walking.

''WHY AREN'T YOU NORMAL?! WHY CAN'T YOU HELP ME FIT IN?! IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU'RE DEAF!!''

My father looked at me. He was clearly shocked.

Hurt clouded his eyes.

He made a few hand motions.

''I know it's hard for you. Every day, I-''

''WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOUR SORRY STORIES?! I DON'T HAVE TO, AND I'M NOT EVEN LISTENING!! I'M WATCHING, AND BECAUSE OF THAT WE CAN NEVER BE A REAL FAMILY!! WE CAN'T BE NORMAL!!''

Would you like me to leave?

I stopped.

Tears came from my dad's eyes. The same eyes that glowed at me when he smiled from his car window. The same eyes that watched as I would write to him what I thought, and what was going on in my life.

And those same eyes stood up and left the table.

I couldn't call out for him to come back, to say that I was sorry. He wouldn't hear me.

I ran upstairs to my bedroom and cried.

It's my daughter's birthday today.

The cashier stared at the old man waving his hands at the desk as if he were crazy, then handed over the little green-laced cake that he had bought. He bowed in thanks, then took it and walked away.

The man sat at the table, moving his hands in fluent motions, practicing a routine of visual words.

I know that I'm not like the other fathers.

I know that that makes it hard for you to feel like you fit in.

But I just want you to know that none of it really matters.

You are the best daughter I could ever have, and I'm so lucky to know you.

I love you, no matter what you may think of me.

I always will.

A loud bang sounds from upstairs.

A cart rushed along the floor of the hospital hallway, carrying a 16-year old girl with a bleeding hole in her chest.

A man stands at the glass doors, frantically waving his hands at two doctors.

''Please. Don't let my daughter die.''

''I have money, I have a house, take it all. Just keep her alive.''

She is everything to me.

The doctors watch in confusion, clearly not understanding the man.

He runs past them, tears streaming down his face, following the cart.

"Her heart isn't beating. She needs more blood. Now."

A man bursts through the door.

Take mine.

The man lies motionless on a bed. A band connects from his arm to the girl's.

Blood runs through.

The girl's heartbeat quickens.

The man's stops.

A hand reaches out from the girl to hold the man's fingers.

She sees the machine detecting his heartbeat.

And she cries.

There is writing on the little green cake, now gone bad from being left out on the dinner table.

Have a wonderful birthday, Lily!