You left in 2005, and I watched you walking away from us, not knowing that I wouldn't see you for 7 years. Not knowing that I wouldn't see you until 2012. All I knew was that you were leaving your family behind. You were leaving behind a broken and hurting family.

And now, 2012 has passed and I saw you in that year for the first time in 7 years. The first time I saw you, I wanted to cry. You still treated me differently. You still saw me differently. Then I wanted to get into a fight with you because I was angry at you for leaving. For walking away and leaving us. For hurting us, daddy.

You know that now I call you dad, but I still call you daddy in the inside because the little, naive girl that's starting to leave me now, still remembers. She still remembers that you were once her daddy, that you were the closest to being her daddy to her. That you were a daddy to her, but then you started showing that maybe you weren't worthy of being called daddy.

Because you didn't call to say happy birthday to her and her brother, when it was their brothers. You sometimes sent a birthday card to them or one of them, but you didn't make it habit. You once saw sent a picture of you and your old girlfriend, breaking the little girl and little boy's hearts. You didn't send the money to mommy to help take care of the little boy that was your son, but who you were not being a father to when he was being your son. You weren't there when the little boy said he missed you, so many times, secretly breaking and hurting his sister and mommy's heart. You weren't there to see the picture that your son drew of a air-balloon with mommy, him and your daughter inside it with you in the air holding onto a rope; you weren't there to hear your son explain why you were hanging onto a rope in the air, you didn't hear when your son said, "Daddy fell." You missed watching your son and daughter grow up. By leaving.

The little girl and the little boy, your daughter and your son watched all of this. And I watched all of this with them. I was with them when all of this happened. I was with them when you waved and said goodbye and left. Because I'm the little girl. I'm your daughter.

Maybe you aren't worthy of being called daddy, daddy, but I still call you dad. I still call you daddy inside myself, but with me only hearing myself call you daddy. I still call you daddy because you are the closest of being the earthly daddy, and because the little, naive girl that I once was is still in me because she hasn't fully left.

You're probably wondering why I called myself that little, naive girl. I called myself that because when you left that little, naive girl, that little girl made up fairy-tales for herself. That little girl told herself lies that you were coming back. That little girl left the door open, just in case you might come back. Yet you didn't. You never came back back. Yet that little girl left it open for a long time.

But now that little girl has closed the door. She had to leave. And when she left, she closed that door of that lie, that you were going to come back to us in a air-plane and we would be a happy family, all together. Because you'll never come back. Even if you come and visit us sometimes and see us, you'll never truly come back because you left.

And now, it's 2014, December 30th. One more day left until it's January, until it's 2015.  It's now about to go onto 10 years since I've last seen you. It's about to be 11 years since you and mommy divorced. But I hope you know, that we're doing fine. We miss you even if we don't say it out loud, I know I miss you, but we're doing fine. The little girl and the little boy you left behind when you went away, have grown and are still growing now. Mama has forgiven you but she's still cautious about you. I don't really blame her for being cautious because you've hurt us back then.

You're near by, just a few miles away, yet you're still far away. Because you say that we probably can't see each other and that it might not work out very well, even though you say you miss us and want to see us badly.

Yet I'll always call you dad. You'll always be my dad even when you aren't being the earthly dad, I need you to be for me. Because you're still my dad even if you don't see me as your daughter. Because the little, naive girl, that had to leave because she had grow up, loves you; I love you.

Because you'll always be my dad.