It started when I was 3. My parents divorce. My counselor later told me I had the problems I did when they separated because I struggle getting too attached to people. When they divorced and I was torn from either my dad or mom, I wouldn’t stop crying. A year passed and I would have nightmares every night about my parents dying. I can remember one very vividly, aliens had them and I watched their severed heads dangle over the toilet. I can remember waking up crying in my tiny bed screaming for my dad. I can remember staying with a family friend, my mom there too. I was sleeping with a girl of my age. We watched hello kitty and my mom brought us red juice in hello kitty water bottles before bed. I woke up during a nightmare, so upset, I puked everywhere. It continued like this for so long. I loved my parents and being away from either of them made me nervous, sick and sad. Puking on the way to daycare because there I had to be away from both, crying when I had to leave either. The puking ended, but the crying never stopped.

At 6, both my mom and my dad had found new people. My mom was getting married to a wonderful man that I consider my dad nowadays. My dad was dating and living with a woman who made the best pasta salad and always encouraged my learning, helping me read and practice spelling tests. I loved the people my parents were with. But things were very different, I dreaded being away from my mom, she was fun and made me happy. After awhile, I began to realize why I didn’t like going to my dad’s anymore. He wouldn’t read with me, I loved to read. He wouldn’t give me attention or spend time with me. I can remember listening to Lincoln Park in his car so loud that I couldn’t talk to him. Of course I loved my dad, but I had begun to love my mom and her fiance more.
At 8 I could no longer go to my dads. He called me a liar. At first I loved it being a young girl finally free of her burdens. But, I missed the Lincoln park after a while. I missed reading to my dad while he watched tv. I missed pasta salad and all our trips to the park. But most of all, I missed my dad. 

I can look back and hate him for not trying to keep me in his life. I could look back and wonder why he made the decisions he made. I could hate the person who ruined any chance for him and I to have a relationship. But I don’t. You see, I love my dad. I no longer see him or talk to him, but I love him. I don’t wonder why he made the choices he did and I don’t hate the person who took him away from me for they didn’t do what they did for any other reason than that it happened to them too. I have learned that mourning the loss of my dad is nothing compared to others who may never meet theirs. I am not ungrateful that he at least was in my life for as long as he was. I will not and can not deny what happened to me, and that is what he wanted me to do. Even an 8 year old, who was insanely attached to their dad can let go of something to improve their life. Young girls and young boys are braver and stronger than anyone could imagine. I am grateful for that.