I was named after a character in a book by my father. I couldn’t tell you the name of the book, but the character was Cassie, not Cassandra, which is why I am Cassie, not Cassandra.

I used to conspire when I was little that I was going to change my name to Cassandra the minute I turned 18. Because no one. No one. Has a nickname as a name. I would still be Cassie, but when people asked me what my “real name” was, I could say Cassandra with a flourish.

Flash forward to today where 2 of my children were named after book characters and all three were given names that could be shortened to a nick name. Because in my mind everyone should be able to live two lives: the resume name and the nick name. And I wish I would have been given the chance.

I never wanted to change my last name. I knew going into my marriage (both my first and second) that I was going to remain a Stegman. It’s how I was born and it’s how I would die. And I also never changed my first name. It wouldn’t be so hard, you know. I used to think it’s just because I was too lazy to take all the steps. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe I just wanted to stay who I was born: Cassie Stegman. The girl with the nickname. The girl named after a book character. The girl who was both the oldest and the middle child. The girl who was both the only girl and the second daughter. The one who was strong but also weak. My father’s daughter.

It’s been almost 13 years since you left. And I still don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to do with this one life I was given. But maybe this is the year I figure it out. At least I know I’m still Cassie Stegman, the girl you named.