Broken

Little Girl

Believe it or not, I had my first heartbreak when I was five years old. A lot of you probably grew up with your father right? Well I didn’t. I grew up with no father figure, only my
brother who was seemingly becoming like my father more and more everyday.

My mom and dad got divorced a year or so after my brother Parker was born on December 4th
of 2002. I wasn’t even one at the time so I mean of course I had no way of knowing what was happening or why he had left.

At the age of five I was more aware of what was happening. Even though I didn’t fully understand yet, I knew he was gone, that’s all I was focused on, that’s all I could focus on.

He would occasionally send birthday cards but even though I was five I was smart enough to know that my grandma had gotten, put the money in and mailed the cards to
us.

All he did was just write a small note saying how he loved us. But if he loved us, then why
wasn’t he there? Why did he leave? Those and many other thoughts came to my head everyday. He cared more about his alcohol and drugs than his own kids.

Father’s day came around and the church I was at, at the time, had a special reception and towards the end would gives the children roses to give to their fathers. I remember my father promising to come. But yet, I stood at the front of the church, staring at the door while all of the other kids were giving their roses to their fathers.

He never came. I remember sitting on the bus ride home that day, I didn’t talk to anyone, all I did was stare out the window and wonder what I did wrong. It wasn’t my fault but it took me a long time to figure that out.

At only five, I was blaming myself for his choices. At only five, I was wondering what I did wrong. At only five, I had my first broken
heart, and it was because of my father.

A father is supposed to love you unconditionally, not break your heart. A father is supposed to always be there for you, not just disappear from your life. A father is supposed to make you feel safe and protected, without having you constantly think if he is alive or in jail again.

The rest of the year consisted of broken promises and the broken heart of a five year old. My
birthday is the last day of the year, which for those of you who don’t know the last day of the
year, it’s December 31st.

My grandma had told me the day before that my dad would come see
me when I was with her, since it was my birthday.

I think most of you can probably guess if he came or not and for those of you who have not
guessed, he didn’t show up. I had prepared myself for the worst earlier that day but I guess I didn’t prepare myself well enough. My grandma got a call from him and I could hear her ask him if he was serious.

She hung up and looked at me with sympathy in her eyes. I knew what that meant, he wasn’t coming. I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I walked over and looked at myself in the mirror as I watched the tears stream down my face.

Most of my childhood revolved around him but he wasn’t in my life the way I wanted him to be. It was all up to me to make the time for him, I guess it was the six year old's responsibly and not the adult's.

Author's note-
That was part one for you guys, please let me know what you thought and if there is anything I can do better. Thank you for reading!