Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had always known my father-who he was, what he did for a living, even what he looked like exactly. But then I remember everything that I DID have, how, how good my life had been. So I don't feel so sad.
But there was always that one inch of my heart that burned with the longing for a father. To have a man with my eyes swing me onto his shoulders, to teach me how to throw a ball, to scare off all my dates. I envied Isabella that.
Isabella's father was my mother's best friend. He was the one that finally told me, when I was seventeen, who my father was. I can remember smirking and telling him that he was out of his mind. That there was no way was my father a superhero, an X-Man.
Until he showed me a picture of my mother when she had been younger, and a man with blonde hair and eyes like mine. I was half convinced, just by the picture, but that stubborn part of me, the part Uncle Julio swore I got from my mother, still refused to believe.
And then he told me his real name. Up until that point, he has always used the man he said was my father's code name, or Mason-Dixion, or Hayseed. I can remember staring at him like he was out of his mind, shocked beyond words.
Because the one of the only things I had ever known about my father was that I was named after him.
My name is Samantha Zacharia Smith-Guthrie.
The man Uncle Julio fingered as my father's name is Samuel Zachary Guthrie.
Sami closed her journal, and slipped into her bag. The small red head rose to her feet, and walked over to where her father lay.
"Hi." She whispered, nervously pushing her hair back with her left hand. "I-I know you might not believe this, but I'm your daughter. Samantha Zacharia Smith-Guthrie, that's my name. My mother was Tabitha."
"You'll notice I said was. Well, my mom died about two years ago. The doctor's said she pretty much worked herself to death. Uncle Julio thought that was pretty funny for some reason. I never knew why, I mean, my Momma worked all my life trying to provide for me."
Sami sniffed, still looking down. It was always difficult to talk about her mother, even two years after her death. She locked the pain away again, and began to speak once more.
"I'm nearly twenty now, you know that? I was born December 24, 1997, Christmas Eve. Freaky huh? All my life, I've wanted to meet you. I wanted you to be my father, the kind of father Isabella had. I always wanted to know stuff about you. Momma only told me a few things though. Told me that I was named after you, and that I-I had eyes like yours. Guess I know why she never told me anything else about you know, huh?"
Once more, Sami stifled tears, and laid the single red rose she had brought on the grave. It read simply: Samuel Zachary Guthrie, February 12, 1976 to March 24, 1997.