Daddy...

I vaguely remember my father. I was three years old when he died, so his presence in my memory is distant. I view photographs of the short time we had together and the love he showed towards me. The pain that stems from the thought that I had three years with my father and I cannot remember a single thing about him is unnerving. I was his little peanut, his special friend, and his playmate. 

The last day I ever saw and interacted with my him was on May 17, 2000. My father, Craig Marquess, was tragically and suddenly killed by an intoxicated driver who struck him with his vehicle and continued to flee the scene of the crime. My mother explained to me that it was at night when this occurred and he was flown to the nearest hospital, but passed away en route. She told me that she fainted when she got the phone call, and I was in my crib sleeping as my father’s soul departed from this life, leaving behind only his body and memory. I hold the faint recollection of squeezing my mother’s hand during the funeral as she weeped for the loss of her best friend, soul mate, and father to her child. 

From that day forward, I was my own best friend and relied on my mother to fill the role of both parents. My mother had to work to support the two of us and I threw myself into my family and school. I frequently imagined how my life would unfold as the girl without a father, who would walk me down the aisle and accompany me to the father-daughter dance? When I achieved a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, I imagined my father in the sidelines cheering for me and when I get a good grade on a test, I picture my father congratulating his little peanut. I communicate with my father through my actions, which I dedicate to him. 

When I commit an act of kindness, I can feel him there commending me. I live my life based on this one principal, live each day as your last and keep moving forward. I am grateful to have such supportive family members, who have each become a piece of the puzzle that is my father. My goal to become a physician began when I was five and I told my grandfather that I wanted to be a doctor so I could save people like my Daddy. I would even practice with my stuffed animals by checking their pulse and treating their illnesses.

The loss of my father permitted me to realize my life goal and dedicate that goal to him. To imagine that the man who decided to drink and drive, and leave the scene of a crime where he killed another human being is chilling. In my father’s memory and relating to my own personal beliefs, I have vowed to never consume any alcoholic beverage and to always offer assistance to others who have decided to do so. If I can prevent the death of another person by a hit and run from an intoxicated driver, then I will know that I have made my father proud. I am a part of my father and he lives through me. As each night comes and goes, I blow a kiss to his urn that sits on my dresser and his photograph placed next to it, and I know that he is looking down and sending me his love and support too. 

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