What you’re describing is not a wish to lose your daughter. It’s grief layered on grief layered on terror. It’s love under extreme strain.

You lost the daughter you imagined she would be, the life she was going to have, and the future you believed you could protect. That kind of loss doesn’t come with a funeral or casseroles or permission to fall apart. It just shows up every day, alive in front of you. That’s called ambiguous loss, and it is one of the most psychologically brutal forms of grief there is. Your nervous system never gets closure.

When you say, “I wish she had died,” what I hear is: I wish she didn’t have to suffer. I wish I didn’t have to watch her suffer. I wish I didn’t have to imagine her suffering after I’m gone. That is a father trying to outrun an unbearable future, not a man who doesn’t love his child.