Growing up without my father was, by far, the hardest thing I've ever dealt with in my life. His choice to leave before I was born felt like a curse. It was "the unknown" that scared me so much. The unknown things like the why, the how, the what of growing up without him there. As a young child, I never really missed him because I didn't know any better. He just wasn't there, and that was that. My mom and the man she eventually married, the man I call Dad, never left me wanting for anything, but there was nothing they could do to fill that void that was in the shape of the idea of my father.Share
I was in 8th grade when I began putting things together and asking questions about him. It started with little things: walking down the street wondering what he looked like or if I had walked past him. Unknown. I wondered how he dressed and how he talked. Unknown. What kind of music did he like? What were his favorite movies? Unknown. Those questions ate at me constantly. The more I thought about him, the more I missed him. The more I missed him, the more the unknown scared me. (Read more.)
The Last Judgment
4 days ago
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