“Dad, I love you, but you don’t know it. I care about you, but you don’t see it. I need you, but you don’t think I do.”

I had never, ever seen my dad cry. He’s way too tough for tears. I think he doesn’t cry in front of us so it will seem as though nothing hurts him. Then Arnel came into my life and every day I wanted to be with him. My father has two jobs, both in San Diego. I live a few hours away from there, so he was rarely home and when he was, I would rather be with Arnel. I would even get mad at my dad when he made me stay around for “family time” because my two brothers were only interested in the TV or the computer. I hated spending time with them and whenever I did stay, I would have a fit.

Thanksgiving we went to San Diego and I was angry because Arnel couldn’t come. The whole day felt wasted. At night we all got together to say what we were thankful for, but the only thing I could think about was my boyfriend. Then my dad came in from work, exhausted. My aunt asked what he was thankful for and he said, “Nothing, because all I have is my family and it seems like they don’t appreciate anything I do. I work two jobs and am barely home and when I am, my family isn’t. I work hard but it seems like I am the enemy. All I want is to spend time with them, but they hate me.” I listened to how hurt he was and it tore me up inside. My cousin said I should appreciate him more because of all the things he does for us and that’s when I realized how selfish and sorry I was. I cried ... and then I stood up and said, “Dad, I am sorry, and I love you.”

My dad’s eyes turned red and a tear fell from his cheek. That is the first time I ever saw him cry ... and it was because of me.