It has been about a month and a half since I got the notification that you passed away. A month and a half since I spent my night in a family therapy room screaming and crying because I couldn’t believe that you were gone, and I remember repeating in my head, “I want to die”. A month and a hal since the hospital put me on one-to-one care, as well as suicide observation. It’s been a month since I lost my “buzzard”, my best friend, and “adopted dad”.

My dear Buzzard,

I keep asking why you had to go so soon, but I can’t find an answer that ever so slightly appeases me. They say that it’s because God needed another angel, but all I can wonder is why he couldn’t help you when you were still here. They tell me that you’re watching over me, that I’m making you proud, and that you’re still shaking your head at me, just like you did when you were alive. I keep wishing and hoping that this is all but a dream, and that maybe, one day, I’ll wake up from the nightmare that has become my life.

We were unique to each other. I don’t think a lot of people understood the bond that was created when I opened up to you about my struggle with Anorexia-Nervosa. I realized that I had an eating disorder before anyone else did, and truthfully, I was scared. I didn’t feel like I had an adult in my corner, and I was too scared to tell my parents. I turned to you, my AP Biology teacher at the time, whom had previously hinted at helping other girls through their eating disorders. That is where our story started.

I’m sure you remember the endless hours I spent in your classroom, asking questions such as, “How do I live through this?”, and “What do I do when I’m not sure I want to recover?”; the countless text messages encouraging me that I could make it through this, beginning the night I had my first EKG and ending the morning I went inpatient for my third stint of treatment; the continuous stream of tears I left on various shirts, whether it was in room 304 before you left for the day, or the nights I couldn’t bring myself to move, so you held me until I fell asleep. There are so many things to remember about us, that as you reminded me for the last time, I will carry them with me until I am grown.

We received a lot of backlash for the bond that we had. There was the accusation of a student-teacher relationship, of something “sketchy” going on, all the way down to being accused of having an affair. The thing is, we both knew that everything that was being spread around was nothing more than gossip, utter bullshit. Nobody listened to the truth - the truth that I didn’t have a good relationship with my father, and I needed someone who understood the ins and outs of an eating disorder. The truth that in a matter of months, people began calling me your daughter, and you agreed by saying, “You are my child, if not my spawn”. You willingly admitted that I was yours, eventually becoming your “Duckling”, a nickname that stuck until the day you died, and will stick for the rest of my life.

You truthfully risked a lot for me, something that I have felt guilty about from time to time. You put your job and credibility on the line for me. You put everything you could into helping me to heal from the demons that pulled me down. There were days that you were proud, confused, and pissed off at the progress I was making in recovery. I know that a lot of things I said didn’t make sense, and honestly, they didn’t make sense to me either. You tried to remind me, constantly, that I wasn’t the awful person I thought I was. You reminded me of who I was - a beautiful girl with a future of becoming a therapist to help even more ducklings like myself.

There isn’t a day, or even an hour that passes by without the thought of you crossing my mind. I’ve been told that when someone who has passed away is on your mind, it means that they are with you. I wish I had made you promise me that you would always be by my side when you were gone, just like you were when you were alive. I wear an angel wing necklace, one that I never take off, as a reminder that you are with me, whether or not I can feel that all of the time. I wish I had a deeper faith to believe that you are in good hands. I wish I could say that I believe you have found a sense of peace, one of my hopes for you in Heaven, because God knows that you didn’t get enough of it while you were alive. I hope with every ounce of my being that you, my best friend, are okay now.

I’ve read a lot of articles since you left Earth, ranging from the description of losing a parent, or losing a friend, to how that changes someone. I’ve been looking for something that says how I feel, but none of them can do it proper justice. Nobody can capture who we truly were - a dad and a daughter closer than what would be believable in today’s day and age. I prefer the phrase, “Buzzard and Duckling”, because that frames more realistically who we are; even though I am sure you still swear that you never told me a buzzard was a “daddy duck”. I listen to songs that remind me of you, both in a traditional and nontraditional way, because like you knew, there was a lot that was untraditional.

I have been grieving losing you every single second since I knew you were truly gone. I cry, I scream, I get angry, I become more depressed. I cry while driving, silently hoping that I might run my car off the road and be in your presence again. I lay in bed at night, wondering how you knew I would be okay without you, as I pray that I won’t wake up. My doctors and therapists insist that this is normal after a loss, but nothing feels normal anymore. I can’t wake up for breakfast and tell you that I’m eating, anticipating a reply in which you call me your “sweet girl”. I can’t tell you about my day, or the crappy grade I got on a test, or how well I did with the meal plan because now you’re gone, and you are only a shadow now. I can’t eat pizza or cake with you, listen to the thunderstorms, or fall asleep on the couch that has been stained by 4 year olds one too many times. There’s so much I can’t do, and so much that you didn’t get to see me do. You’ll never see me graduate college, get a Masters, create a family, and become as you said, “a life-changing therapist”. There’s so much that just wasn’t meant to be.

I don’t think anyone realizes the immense pain I am in by losing you. You, at the end of the day, became my best friend. I adopted you as my dad, yes, but losing you meant losing a part of myself. That sounds so cliche and cheesy, but nothing is more painful than that cliche being true. You filled a void that was left in my life by an abuser, treated me as a daughter, and loved me as your duckling. I ask myself every day why I get to live, and you didn’t. I live in fear that I will never find another human who cared for and supported me as you did. I just, I just wish you could be home, because Heaven isn’t home. Home is where you are loved, and you were loved here on Earth. You’re not in a “better place”; you belong here.

I truly believe that you knew and do know how grateful I was for each and every single thing you did for me. I believe that you know how important you were to me, and how much I loved (and will always love) you. I am grateful that my path crossed yours, and you agreed to be someone for me that you never signed up for. I am blessed to have been loved, cared for, and encouraged. I will always believe that I am better for having known you.

In my own life, I hate the idea of saying “goodbye,” but I find myself saying it anyway. I will forever hate it from the night I last saw you, because I had no clue that that “goodbye”, would be the last one. That’s the thing about the last time, you truly cannot ever predict that it’ll be the last. I never expected it would be the last hug, the last inpatient visit. I will hate Mondays for the rest of my life, struggle to listen to songs that remind me of you, and fear being told, “I love you”, because I will never know when the person saying it will be gone.

You were honestly one of the best things to happen to me in the absolute worst part of my life. In the lowest instance in my life, you provided the love and care that I needed. I will never apologize for needing that help, or for doing what I needed to do in order to save myself. I will continue to talk about you, to remember you, and to tell people how incredible you really were. I will do my best to keep you alive every day, and remember the words you wrote for me, that I now bare on my body. I will, without any reservations, always love my Buzzard.

I hope I am, and will make you proud.

I love you Buzzard.

XO, Duckling