2020 may have been the worst year of people's lives, but not for me.

January 9th, 2018. Easily the worst day of my life.

I got to say goodbye to him the day before and hear him call me his brown-eyed baby girl one last time, but it didn't make the pain any less now that he was gone. My dad was 42 years old when he died of congestive heart failure. It's been over three years, and the wounds are still fresh.

I wish I could say when his death day or birthday comes around I don't blare my playlist full of songs that remind me of him and cry my eyes out, but I do. And I think of every single thing he's missed and will continue to miss. Every single year since he's been gone.

Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and birthday doesn't get easier without him.

I screenshotted the last text messages I ever got from my dad. December 24th, 2017 he told me, "I'll always care about you. You're my baby. The three of you are my rock." The three being my sisters and me.

I'll never forget the picture I find on Pinterest after that, that still sits with me. "Your wings were ready, but my heart was not."

I have had this story idea on my list for a long time, but I never thought I would have the heart to write it. Putting it into words just makes it more real. I sit here tearing up as I think about my dad. He had two things he always called me: kiddo and his brown-eyed baby girl.

I loved my dad so very much. When I was six or seven, he adopted me. I swear that you could do a DNA test, and that man would actually biologically be my father, we were that much alike. No matter what anyone says, he was my dad. Blood didn't have to determine that. Just like my brothers and sisters are still my siblings although they aren't blood.

I had people tell me I didn't have the right to grieve for him because he wasn't biologically my dad. How rude could they possibly be? I'd known that man almost my entire life. He raised me. He taught me how to fish, what good music sounds like. He taught me how to ride a horse.

I still remember vividly watching Looney Tunes and SpongeBob with him. I even have a video I recorded of him watching his favorite episode of SpongeBob and laughing. I watch it whenever I miss his laugh.

I have had family members call me kiddo, customers at work, and I honestly wince every time. I wish they knew the reason that I didn't like anyone else to call me that nickname. But how do you tell someone that without being rude?

There is always a story behind every nickname. I have several, and I have several nicknames I call my friends and my family. But the meaning behind some nicknames is just too personal.

I don't care what anyone else calls me. Any other form of endearment, just please don't call me kiddo.