Ten years ago today, my father was found dead. I don't know why he died, or who killed him. Mom says she'll tell me when I'm older. I keep saying I'm ready, but I guess thirteen isn't old enough for her.

It's weird, because I barely remember him. The only reason I even know what he looked like is because of all the photos we have. I remember that we'd spend a lot of time together. He'd play with me whenever I wanted, as long as he wasn't busy. I think he did a lot of work, so I always liked it when he was home. That's all I've got – vague stuff like that. Most of what I know is what other people have told me.

I've asked a lot of people about Dad. Roy was his friend, so he always has stories to tell. He's always busy, though, so I don't see him much. Besides, he's not much fun. He's always serious, and he doesn't smile very often. Winry is easier to talk to, but I don't get to see her as much. She didn't know Dad for very long, so she doesn't really have anything to say that I haven't heard already.

Sometimes I wonder what would be different if Dad was alive. I can't know for sure, but it would've been easier for Mom. He would've been there to help me with homework, or to read to me before bedtime. He could've told me what to do when I had my first crush a few years ago. It would've been nice to have a guy's perspective on something like that.

I'm never going to know. He won't be able to teach me to drive, or see me graduate when I finish school. He won't be there to embarrass me before my first date. And if I ever have kids, they'll be missing a grandfather.

Ten years ago, it wasn't just his life that was stolen. It was a part of mine, too. And since I was so little, I don't even know what I'm missing.

Tonight, Mom is going out with a bunch of other people who knew him. I was going to stay at home and babysit Winry's kids, but then Mom said she wanted me to come along. Somehow it doesn't feel right. It's not even Dad that I'm sad about. It's what he could've been for me. Isn't that weird? I'm his only daughter, and I don't even remember enough to miss him!

Even so, I'll go along. I'll eat dinner, and listen to the adults talk. I'll be there for Mom when she starts crying. I'll put flowers on his grave, right next to the ones everyone else put there. And for the millionth time, I'll be reminded of the hole in my life that shouldn't be there.

This was one of my earlier 100 Themes ideas. It didn't turn out quite how I wanted it to, but I'm still happy with it. I still say one of the saddest things about Hughes' death is that his daughter won't remember how much he loved her. I wanted to try and convey that, and I hope I succeeded.