In Nebraska its cold outside and I can’t feel my fingers tips. I feel like I am living in a dream of memories when I was a little girl, playing in the snow and making snowmen. I remember those days as if they were yesterday. My dad was not there he was away serving in the military. My mom was raising my brother, sisters, and myself. It was hard for her to raise all of us because she was always stressed. I could feel her stress even though I was little.
We would go away on vacations without my dad and we would pretend things were normal. My mom tried to give us a normal life but I knew it was not normal. He would be gone up to a year at least. She would always try to keep us busy with after school clubs and sports.I remember always worrying about my dad. Was he safe? Is he thinking about me? Does he want a relationship with me? I never had a dad, but I always wanted one. I remember a specific childhood friend. I was always jealous of her, she seemed to have a perfect life, and she had a family. She admired her father, she told me many great stories about her father, dinners and father daughter dances together. Inside I was jealous because I always longed for a father. She admired him she talked all the time about him. He would pick her from school and spend quality time together. My mind began with questions. I wonder if my father would want to spend time with me? Does he know what I like and dislike? A father should love his children and be committed to them. My dad would call maybe once every four weeks; I would talk to him for a short amount of time. He was making an effort to talk to me. So, did that mean he loved me or did he just do it to make my mom happy? Is that love, going out of your way for someone? Do I love him and want a relationship?
On those cold winter days, the memories come back to me of my childhood. It was a warm fall day my dad just told the family again that he is leaving we won’t see him for nine months or more. This time I didn’t cry, I stopped caring about how I felt when he left. Again, the memories of that day before he left is very clear in my mind. He wanted to take my brother, sisters and myself out with him. But it was different this time; he wanted to go one on one. My dad and I went together for dinner and a movie. It was hard for me to talk to him because I didn’t have a relationship with him. I was frustrated with myself because I pictured this day in my mind so many times. Daddy and I spending quality time together, laughing and having that comfort that he is there for me.
The affects his absence had on me, not feeling loved because my mom had a hard time loving my brother, sisters and myself. I would wish he could come home for a day or two just so I could talk to him and maybe know something important about him. My mind wanders with some many questions I will like to ask him. However, one of my greatest fear I had was does He not love me? And if he truly did love me then why did he never come home or just try to make an effort to come home a little bit? What made him want to join the military and leave behind a family that he never had a relationship with?
Some days I sit in my room, staring at the window trying to picture what he is doing, and what he looks like. My mom has no idea the effect this has on me. However, it will break her heart because I believe her heart is already broken. I will feel horrible if I broke it more. I am afraid to speak my mind to her because his actions have affected the family in a huge way. No one likes to talk about him because its hurts too much.
However, what if I did speak my mind, will that help us? Will it feel better to know that he is alive? I think the fear that he could die and we will never have a chance to see him makes us more worried and hurt so we don’t like to talk about it. Death is dark and gloomy and my mom tries to bring joy and happiness into the house. Therefore, we ignore the negative and try to be positive. Like I said, she tries to give us a normal life but I know she is breaking inside.
One night I woke up hearing someone crying, I walked around trying to figure out where it was coming from. I walked all the way into the living room I hid behind the wall so she couldn’t see me. There she was sitting on the floor crying very hard holding his picture. I felt my heart break all over again but this time it was more intense. I wish I could just run into her arms and cry with her. And tell her that it’s ok to cry.
However, I knew that she tried to cover up her pain and I felt her pain too. However, now I have seen her crying so hard and I could never tell her that I have seen her cry. She always pretends things are normal. However, I am tried of pretending that things are normal. Why can’t she talk to us about her pain? I now everyone is broken, will like to talk to someone about it. I feel we brush off our feelings everyday. Is it normal to keep everything bottled up inside? Who can I talk to? I am done with living in a lie that I am living in that everything is fine.
I am older now I am more aware of my surrounding; with situations. I realized that I never had a father. I still wonder how my life would have been if I did. I don’t want to look for love to fill the missing piece in my heart. I want to learn more about love before I could love and forgive him. Possibly down the road I will love him and want to have a relationship with him. One day when I have a family of my own I want my husband to be the best dad. He could to our children, show our children fatherly love.
