A daughter's love---forgotten.... | Teen Ink

A daughter's love---forgotten....

December 12, 2008
By Anonymous

Today my black parade started. It began to un-fold helplessly down the streets, seeping into every dark corner, overpowering the light. Then it came, first the brilliant flash of light, then the deafening roar of thunder. Cool drops of darkness fell, prickling my skin like thousands of needles. It felt unnatural-almost good; almost. That’s when it started to rain on my black parade….

I led the parade down the streets. Everyone I passed bowed their heads in utter silence. Parting out of their way as I led my black parade away and down the streets. When I reached the end of town I turned around to face it; the dark “truth,” the in-secureness of it all where this parade-my black parade would begin and end. There was silence all around and no one looked at me.

I turned my back to the crowd as I felt some curious light on my back. There on the cliff was a patch of eerie, yet welcoming sunshine. I walked toward it my fingertips reaching out; grasping the air. I closed my eyes as I got closer to the edge of the cliff. I turned again to face the crowd, everyone I ever met or knew was there staring at me, while holding their breaths.

Distant and well-known faces mingled in the crowd. My body shuddered as my eyes landed on one person. I knew him; and yet I didn’t. It was strange. Many kids would call him dad; I couldn’t however because he was too distant from my heart to be called such a precious thing.

His lips trembled.

Finally I found words to speak, but no sound would come out of my mouth. I stood there, staring at him, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. He held out his arms, as if to hug me, but dropped them limply to his side when I didn’t make a move towards him. I just kept staring and thinking, this man so lifeless, hard, and cold….is my father? He acts like he doesn’t want me. I’ am broken but I’ am hoping……..I ‘am crying a part of me is dying because these are the confessions of a broken heart.

He sighed, and I realized that tears were coming down my cheeks fast. I wondered for a second if he remembered my name, surely he would, but then again he has eighteen other kids-none whom I know. Why would he want to remember me, if I existed, what my name was and that I was his kid, a mere child. I felt like an old toy on a shelf, sitting next to seventeen other little toys, untouched; and forgotten. The color drained from my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. I walked over to him. The crowd stepping aside so I could reach him. He held out his arms again; but I shook my head no. I saw a flicker of pain cross his face, but he nodded and dropped his arms to his side again. I grabbed his arm and held out the palm of his hand. I felt him watching me; slowly I raised my head and looked at him. Then without anymore words I slipped off my birthstone ring, (a precious gift that my biological mom gave me before I was adopted) and placed it into his open palm. His fingers curled around it gently, as I walked back to the edge of the cliff. I turned and looked at him one more time, my last tears fell as I nodded my head in farwell, then I with a quik leap I jumped into the sea below the cliff. Everything went cold and black as the sea consumed me. Then I felt some warmth and light spread through my body. I felt free and pure, emptied of every bad emotion and thought. I was being raised out of the water and all around me were angels. One of them spoke to me, “you will hurt no more.’

Then I smiled for the first time in a long time. I turned back one more time towards the cliffs. And there he was. Standing where I had stood on the edge of the cliff a few minutes ago, I saw something glimmer on his pinky-my ring. I faced him, then with a final nod I said the four words I’d been meaning to say my entire life,





“I love you…..dad.” then I turned back as I disappeared into the clouds…….


The author's comments:
I wrote this story when I was twelve. When I was five my entire life was changed on the simple decision of a judge. I was adopted into a family. I still visit my biological parents. I recently found out that I had a third father. Ever since then I have had my heart set on finding and meeting him. I wrote this story about me finally meeting my dad before I died.I was inspired to write this through the heartache of realizing that I was different from everyone else because of my family and my adoption. I now realize that my adoption was a good thing and that I'am a lucky person.

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