To an Absent Father


1You left when I was barely able to talk, let alone walk on my own.

You left for another woman who you deemed more deserving of your idea of love, with a family you found more deserving of a father. And for a while, I put the blame of you leaving on myself. Because what kind of a father would leave the daughter he loves?

Throughout elementary school, I wondered what it would be like to have a dad who was present in my life. I mean sure, me seeing you every other weekend was great, despite having to see the woman you remarried to. And yes, our weekly dates to get ice cream or go watch the planes land and take off was fun. Of course, we can’t forget the one time you came to see me play soccer in kindergarten, bringing your newfound, loving family with you. Those years were great, they really were, because at least you tried. And then third grade hit, and that Christmas changed my life. I didn’t get to see you that year, or the next, or the next. Maybe I should’ve known it would happen, the inevitable disappearance of the father who found his “true family” after his first failed attempt. But soon the hope of getting more than a ten-minute, pity-party phone call on my birthday diminished, along with the idea of you being more than the man I called “father.” Continues on the next pages…

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