Letter To My Daughter - by Richard Idoko

<h2>Dear Daughter!</h2> I Wasn’t Missing—I Was Erased‎‎If you ever find this someday, I hope you read it with your heart.‎‎Not through the stories they told you.‎Not through the pain they passed down.‎And definitely not through the silence that followed me out of your life.‎‎Because no matter what they said… I never stopped being your father.‎‎You were my first prayer with eyes.‎The softness I never knew I had.‎The reason I looked at the future with hope, even when everything around me was falling apart.‎‎I didn’t walk away from you.‎I was erased.‎‎Not suddenly. Not loudly. But slowly.‎Through lies. Through courtrooms. Through a system that believes children only need mothers.‎‎But you were always more than a weekend to me.‎More than a support check.‎More than a photo on my screen.‎‎You were my legacy.‎‎And that’s what scared them.‎‎Because they didn’t want you to see what real masculinity looks like.‎‎Not the loud kind. Not the violent kind.‎But the steady kind—the kind that builds, protects, and stays.‎‎I fear that in my absence, you’ve only seen what they allowed:‎‎– Men who come and go.‎– Men who call you “queen” but never offer you peace.‎– Men who take your body and ignore your soul.‎‎I’m terrified that without my presence, you’ll think that’s normal.‎‎That you’ll grow up thinking love is a game.‎That leadership is control.‎That submission is slavery.‎That men are weak, disposable, or optional.‎‎I worry that you’ll follow the world and call it freedom.‎‎That you’ll shout “independence” while your heart quietly breaks in private.‎That you’ll use your beauty to attract boys—while starving for the love only a father could teach you to recognize.‎‎Because when I left…‎No one taught you how to vet a man.‎No one told you what real love requires.‎No one showed you what a man sacrifices to lead.‎‎But daughter, I’m still here.‎Even if from a distance.‎Even if they made it look like I stopped caring.‎‎I still remember your laugh.‎I still remember your tiny hand in mine.‎I still see your face in every girl I pass on the street.‎‎You don’t know this, but I’ve watched your life unfold through the cracks:‎– School performances I wasn’t invited to.‎– Birthday photos I found online.‎– Moments I missed—not because I didn’t try, but because I wasn’t allowed. <img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG-20250619-WA0005.jpg"/>‎‎They call that “co-parenting.”‎But all I ever wanted… was to be your father.‎‎If one day you wonder:‎‎“Why didn’t he fight harder?”‎‎Just know this—‎‎I fought battles in rooms you were never allowed to enter.‎I bled in silence.‎I begged in court.‎I paid for years of your life with no voice in them.‎‎And through it all, I never stopped showing up in the only way they let me.‎‎Because a real father doesn’t quit.‎Even when he’s stripped of his title.‎‎One day, a man will stand before you with promises.‎He’ll say the right words.‎He may even mean them.‎‎But before you choose him, ask:‎‎“Would he suffer for me? Lead me without pride?‎Fight for my peace—even when I push him away?”‎‎Because that’s what love looks like.‎That’s what I would’ve shown you.‎That’s the man I prayed you’d recognize—because of me, not in spite of me.‎‎I may not walk you down the aisle.‎I may not be there for the first heartbreak.‎I may not get to say the words fathers usually do.‎‎But I’m saying this now:‎‎You were never a mistake.‎You were always my girl.‎And every sunset I see reminds me… that my love still lives in you.‎‎Love, Dad

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