Dad.

Do you remember when I was 4 or 5 years old? We lived in the white house off Main Street next to the bakery in Lehi? Jake, the boy my age across the street was riding his bike without training wheels, so I had to learn how to ride my bike without training wheels, too? So I kept you outside all day so I could learn? Do you remember?

Do you remember all those trips to Kanab, when we would take out the four wheelers with Grandpa and Uncle Randy and Uncle Kevin? I would always have to ride with you on your four wheeler. I would cry and pout if I had to ride with anyone else. Do you remember?

Do you remember my senior year when I had to make my senior book full of essays on my life I wrote for english, and you helped me put it together the night before it was due? Do you remember?

Do you remember my first major boyfriend that broke my heart? How angry you were that he hurt me? And how you forbid me from talking to him or dating him ever again because he wasn't good enough for me? Do you remember?

Do you remember when we stuck together during the divorce? Do you remember?

Do you remember when I saw those emails from "untrue" and you told me it was my mother setting you up to try to break you and Tina up? Do you remember?

Do you remember how you lied to me yesterday about Bethany, thinking I wouldn't find out? Do you remember?

Do you remember how I used to look up to you so much? How I used to want to marry someone as hardworking, relentless, and resilient as you? Or even just be like you?
Dad, I'm your little girl. I'm supposed to look up to you in every way. You're supposed to be the first man I ever love and you're supposed to guide me through life as much as you can, to guide me into becoming someone better. I used to want to end up with someone like you. Someone who will love me like you loved Tina. Someone who is as hardworking, relentless, and resilient as you. But now I could never let myself end up with someone like you. Of course, I want to end up with someone hardworking, relentless, and resilient like you. But now I can't be with someone who reminds me of you.

Why would you do this? Why did you think this was okay? That woman that walked away yesterday was better than most people in this world, and I know you know that. You're never going to get her back. She wasn't just the woman you put a ring on. She was a mother to myself and Clayton. She helped me and Clayton with so much. She was that motherly figure we needed in our lives. She was a good example of what hard work gets you in life. You both are, but you lost her. But that wasn't the only thing you lost.
You lost my respect, too.