My father never intended on getting married. I asked him why ever since I was very little, and he always said it was because he never wanted to. Then, of course, I would ask, “How come you never wanted to?” He would usually respond that there was no woman out there that he wanted to be anything more than friends with, and I was the only one he needed. As I look back on it now, I realize that he wasn’t lying to me. There was no woman out there that he could love as a wife. But deep down, I could always tell that he was still searching for love – a kind of love that a daughter or wife wasn’t capable of giving. It was like – I couldn’t explain it at the time, and I can barely describe it now. It was like when you’re suddenly awoken early in the morning and you can’t get back to sleep, no matter how hard you try. So you have some choices: lay around and do nothing for a while, or get up and start your day. Little did I know that the sun had been up for a long time already, and he still hadn’t started his day.