The word that comes to mind when I do any type of research on what my daughters’ future looks like, is defeating. I’ve probably read 15-20 books, countless articles, and discussed with several (4? 5?) therapists what I should be looking for, how to help, how to cope, but mostly how to be proactive.

There is a term (and a pretty cruel one at that) called “fatherless daughters.” It’s slang/humorous/non-PC term is girls with “daddy issues.” You can Google it, but it’s terrible, stupid, and hurtful. In the 4.5 years that I’ve been navigating this crazy journey, I have met some incredible people who have inspired me to ignore these terms. Besides, there is a huge difference in all of our stories, we can’t lump all gals who are growing up without dads in the same group. Some girls have never had a father, raised by a fearless woman who knew she could do the job alone. Some started out with a dad, and he changed his mind. Some have minimal relationships with their father, often forced by the court. Some had really bad dads, and the choice was made by another to keep them away. And some have been raised by 2 mothers, showing their children what a healthy relationship looks like with no testosterone in the parental front lines whatsoever. So many different paths. The one I’m most familiar with: the girls who knew a loving, involved, amazing father, who was taken away far too early.

My girls remember Aaron exactly as he was. Loud, funny, loving, charismatic, and full of life. He truly was the fun parent, and we both knew it. It’s okay, I know I’m pretty fun, too, sometimes. But he just exuded joy. Layla’s memories aren’t very strong, she was just 3 when he died. Maizy remembers a lot, and she misses it so much. Out of what nowhere, or what appears to be nowhere, she’ll get choked up and ask “why did he have to die?” And Layla once asked (when she was pretty young) if there was a city that just has moms that we could move to, so she wouldn’t feel jealous every day when she sees dads.

The both have issues, which they may have had anyway, who knows? Maizy has difficulty with change. She has cried on the last day of school every year, knowing that she will miss her teacher, class, friends, and this moment in life that she won’t get back. She has wished she was “more normal,” so she was “easier for people to like.” She feels left out. That’s probably the biggest issue for her. She is at a tough age where she sees friendships changing, and she feels so sad. She gets nostalgic, she cries, and wishes that her life was easier. I’m sure all kids wish for that. She is an empath, and has a really big heart, probably because of her experiences. She is so funny, so helpful, and usually really kind.

Layla can be so stubborn, likely a need/desire to be able to make some choices in a world where not many were/are given to her. I don’t battle on some (wanting a Donald Trump hairdo on picture day) but hold strong on others (wearing shorts when it’s 38 degrees.) Layla is blunt, honest, and often too raw. She gets jealous. She loves being sassy, and loves when she finds people who appreciate the (in good taste) sass. She has the most infectious laugh, and her dad’s zest for life.

Over the last 4 years, they have insisted on knowing what will happen if I die. They ask a lot of heartbreaking questions, but this was one that they really needed to know. At first I told them I hoped that would be until we were all little old ladies, but they responded with “We hoped the same about daddy. What would happen? You’re our last parent.” So I told them that they would stick together. They would not be put into different homes. There would be a meeting with my siblings and parents, Aaron’s sister, and our closest friends to figure out a plan. They would still spend a lot of time with all family and friends, but they would live with one. A few weeks later, a good friend of ours had them over to play. On the ride home, they told me how much fun they had, and asked if I died if that family could “go to the meeting.” This was early, maybe a year after Aaron died. They have had other ideas for this hypothetical meeting in the last few years. Recently, Layla was at a friend’s house and had a great time. On the ride home, she asked if that family could go to the meeting. I started thinking, and realized that all of the families they had requested had both a mother and a father, the way their own family started out. Then I cried, because when their little hearts ache, mine does, too. Tenfold.

Looking ahead, the books tell me what to watch for: higher risk of depression, low self-esteem, ptsd, self-medicating, eating disorders, body image issues, etc. For now, they have none of those. I’ll keep my eyes wide open for sure. When I taught middle school, there was a place to talk to the right staff about students with new concerns… and I remember very clearly one of the first questions asked about the female students we brought forth: “Is her dad in the picture?”

If you know of a single mama (or dad), of boys OR girls, and want to be helpful, let them know you are here to help, not to judge. And let them know how you can help. Do you like to rock babies? Can you take her kids to the park for an hour so she can cry into her pillow? We know it takes a village, how can you be part of that village? Help create memories with their babes. Boost those kids’ self esteem by letting them know their are delightful enough to spend time with. That you want them in your memory bank. That you see them, and you want them to know they are loved and appreciated. Kids are resilient, but they are not unbreakable. Their hearts can be so fragile, often protected by a tough exterior. Adults often don’t choose the path that lead to single parenthood, but kids never choose the path. All kids deserve love. Let’s all laugh with them, learn from them, and love them.