Innovative Minds

The Word Father

I.

When I was three, that was the last time I ever saw your face in person. By the age of five you had completely abandoned mother and I. As a little girl I would cry myself to sleep - begging for you to come back and possibly show some interest that you still wanted me in your life. However, I now realize you were incapable of doing just that. Why couldn't I have a so-called "dad," just like everyone else? The worst part of it all is that I will never be able to fully erase you from my memory. Your name is attached onto mine claiming, your mark on me like I am your puppet. Whenever I look into the mirror, I see tiny bits of your features sprinkled onto my face. So desperately I want to wash you away but, even if I were to dig a hole and bury you away - you would still find a way to crawl back out and haunt me. I hate the word father, for I have never had one.

II.

My last memory of you was on a cool September afternoon. Champ, my hamster, had died and I was bawling my eyes out. You took him to the park and buried him into the ground. I thought that death was sad, but something much worse happened that day. As you buried my furry friend, you also buried me. That was the last time you were ever in my life. We were supposed to be mourning the death of my beloved pet and yet, you somehow managed to make this event about you. You took that shovel and dug up our relationship, spitting dirt onto my pride. I once was happy to call you mine, and now I am ashamed to have even known you. A dad is someone who is supposed to take care of their family, someone who loves and cherishes them - you however, decided to burn a hole into my heart; tear open my soul and take a piece away. Mom was the one who saved me. Unlike you, she loved me - trying so hard to protect me from you. I no longer hate the word father, I just hate the man who was supposed to be mine.

III.

Over time, my memories of you have slowly faded away. I allow myself to think of better things than the man who left me. My mother is a true hero for, she has taken care of me every single day from the moment I was born. She has shown me what a loving parent is like. Over the last twelve years she has filled the holes that you burned in my at four years old. My mother has taught me that what happened was not my fault, that none of it was my wrong doing. It sucks that I do not have my biological father in my life however, it was a choice that he made and no one in this world could have changed his mind. He lost a good thing in his life. Now I realize that I forgive you; by leaving me, you bettered my well being rather than if you had stayed. I no longer hate the man who was my father, just the choices he made.