Dear Dad,

I know you are watching me. You have watched me every day of my life since the minute I was born. You watched me pedal my pink Barbie bike a full loop around the cul-de-sac after learning from you and of course falling a few times. You watched me through your camera lens as you followed me around, making home videos that would become treasured in the future. You watched me get on the bus for my first day of kindergarten, as I turned around, flashed a nervous smile, and waved goodbye.

You saw all of our reactions the morning after you passed. The weeping and mourning, you saw it all. From then on, all you could do was watch. You watched me try to explain to my naïve 4-year-old sister that you weren't just away on another business trip and that you would never walk through the door to our house again. You watched me struggle to comprehend what Mom was going through, a widow with the responsibilities of raising two kids, while trying to work, all the meanwhile suffering from the loss. At age 7, I didn't understand how big of an impact that night would have on my life. As I've matured, I've realized how lucky I am to be where I am today, despite losing you.

You saw the first time I rode a horse. You saw the day that Mom bought me one of my very own. Of course, you also saw the years of struggle and frustration that followed that day. Fraya wasn't the perfect fairytale pony for a 10-year-old girl. Having been abused in her past, she kicked and spooked frequently and was a wild ride. Mom suggested we sell her, but I adamantly refused. Fraya was my best friend, my passion, and my dedication. I didn't give up. I took after you. I loved animals and I worked with Fraya everyday to make her the great horse she now is 10 years later.

You watched the tears roll down my cheeks after I got cut from the basketball team in seventh grade, then watched me practice endlessly, pushing myself to improve. You later watched me sit the bench during the eighth grade season, never given a chance to show my potential. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school when you saw me put my self-motivation to the maximum. After a whole summer of practicing at the basketball hoop in my driveway, I became a starter for the junior varsity team, later becoming a varsity contributor my sophomore year. You watched me as my name was called out and I ran onto the court with the starting lineup, a big grin stretching across my face. I know you were so proud of me, proud of my courage for continuing to play the sport we both loved, even after you died from a heart attack while playing the same game.

You watched me transition from the small town you planned to raise us in to the larger suburb we moved to a few years after you were gone. You witnessed me grow and make new friends, while still always cherishing my old home and lifestyle.

You were watching Aug. 5, 2011, my long purple dress flowing behind me, as I walked down the beach with Mom and Bri in Bermuda to start a new chapter in our lives. Although nobody could ever replace you as my father, I am happy Mom was able to find someone that has helped mend her broken heart. I know you were watching when she said, “I do," and you were happy for her too.

You watched me go to my first prom. If only you could have been standing next to me in those pictures.

You watched me experience my first real relationship, and you saw how devastated I was when it ended. I know how badly you probably wanted to just hug me then, give me a comforting shoulder to cry on. And I wish you could have.

You watched me go to my first day of college classes. You watched me go to my first day of classes a year later at a different university. You've watched me make new friends and adjust to living in the south, a place you would have loved to explore.

Throughout my life, you've watched me adapt identical interests to your own, a part of you living on through me. You've watched me grow to love food and develop a passion for cooking new recipes, just like how you used to cook me dinner every night. You've watched me fall in love with nature and especially animals. Up until a few years ago, we still got your monthly National Geographic subscription in the mail, and I would flip through the pages, mirroring your actions from when I was young.

Although you are not physically here now, I know you are still watching me. Of course I'm sad that you have not been able to be next to me during the countless steps that I have climbed to be where I am today, but at the same time, I have learned to be content despite your absence. Yes, I wish that perhaps you and Mom could have split the time behind the camera more so that I'd have more than a few pictures with you to keep as memories. Yes, I wish I could have had the chance to spend more time than just seven short years with you. Yes, sometimes I wish I could have had a perfectly normal childhood. But in the end, it all has made me a stronger, better person.

You've watched me all my life, Dad. After all, you are my guardian. You'll be watching as I take pictures with my friends at the Old Well when I graduate with a UNC diploma. You'll be watching as I walk into my first big job interview, nervous as hell. You'll be watching when I move into my first apartment on my own and when I buy my first dog. Although you won't be able to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, I won't be sad. Instead, I'll be happy because I know you'll be watching, proud to be my father. I know you are still watching me from heaven, smiling, making me smile back through the tears and the laughter, the good times and the bad. And I find comfort in knowing you will continue to watch me for the rest of my life.

I love you,

Britt