It is difficult to put into words my relationship with my father. None seem to adequately describe its depth and breadth. We knew what we had was special. I was told he saw it the moment I came from my mother's womb. I believe I felt it while I was still in it. So when I saw him take his last breath from suffering a massive heart attack, my life turned upside down. Here are journal entries that cast a blue spotlight on our journey together, and my journey through valleys of healing.

Wednesday, January 24, 1996, 9:30 p.m. Detroit, MI
y dad is so crazy. He just came in my room trying to dance like Michael Jackson. I wonder if your soul mate can be your father? I mean, we know each other and understand each other like crazy. It's wild how identical we are. He's good for me and I'm good for him. I thank God that He gave me William Milton White, Sr. to be my father. Thinking about having someone else as a father is depressing.

Easter Sunday, April 7, 1996, 7:09 p.m. Detroit, MI
I am making myself write, because I've been putting it off for a month now. On Saturday, March 2nd around 3:00 p.m. dad passed. I still can't believe it. I used to think about his death occasionally to try and prepare myself, but nothing eases the pain or shock. I'm so confused about death-where he is actually, where is Heaven exactly; does he think about me, does he still love me? I often wish that when God took him that He had taken me too. I know I'm not ready to "leave," but it's too difficult to imagine living without dad…my soul mate. I was so close to him through it all too: holding his hand, talking with him, praying for him-but death is stronger than my love.

Monday, May 5, 1998, 10:27 p.m. Atlanta, GA
I've tried recently to disconnect myself from dad-trying to be me, independently. You know, not wanting to feel that I'm worshipping or living for the dead. The Foundation that I've wanted to start in his memory lost its appeal to me because I felt it was too much "dad." I stopped wanting to remember him-thinking I could go on and have a fulfilling life. I want to be healthy and questioned dedicating my life to his memory, but what I'm now realizing is that the part of him I cut out of my life is the part of my spirit I need to help me to be happy. It's a matter of balance and keeping it all in the proper perspective. I felt I lost everything when dad took his last breath. A large part of me died when he died. Parts of me still die as I try to live without him. My fear is that what remains of us may not be enough for me to go on, and if it is enough, then will I truly be who God has created me to be? I've been making choices lately that go against me as my dad's child. Some positive, others destructive. I have to remember that I am mom and dad in one. I can't ignore either of their influences, nor the fact that my spirit is also a part of dad's spirit. He was all that is good to me. I must find that again and keep it close to my bosom. That doesn't make me weak or dependent, rather insightful. It's a long path to travel. Once again I got lost and confused, but thank God for Spirit which always guides and holds me even when I'm numb and oblivious.

Friday, March 3, 2000, 12:20 p.m. Atlanta, GA
Yesterday marked the fourth year of dad's passing. I had a good cry in the morning and most of the afternoon I was sad, but it got better. I didn't get that empty feeling in my gut this time when I cried, nor did I play through my mind what happened at that time four years ago.

Friday, March 8, 2002, 9:46 p.m. Atlanta, GA
My instant message buddy and I just got off. Wild, deep, crazy conversation as usual. He asked me what I would say if I was instant messaging my dad and I knew that was my last time communicating with him. The question caught me off guard, but I was more than eager to answer. In that moment I actually felt relieved as if I was really getting a chance to say "goodbye" to dad, as if he was actually going to read my message.

I printed the instant message, because I wanted to keep the words close. Here's what I wrote: "I would thank him for loving me and for making me feel like the most special daughter and friend in the world, for teaching me to be strong yet sensitive, for ALWAYS believing in me and giving me opportunities others dream about. I would tell him how I so love him: his strength yet gentleness, his integrity and faith, his commitment, his laughter and his hugs, being able to crawl up next to him in bed and listen to his heartbeat. I would let him know how very special he is to me and how I will never forget him."

Buddy's response was, "He knew all of that, and he would say to you, 'I hope I was the kind of father you could be proud of. I worked so hard because I wanted you to have a better life than I. I'm sorry I can't be around for these years you need me most, but know that the same God who taught me will teach you. The same God that led me will lead you. The same God that held me up will hold you up. I love you J-and I know that we will meet again. Until then, live life to the fullest.'"

You can imagine how my tears were overflowing. I needed that, particularly then, in many ways. Trying to express the simple yet profound effect caused me to think of what dad would sometimes say, "Words are poor tools…."