As a child I think I was broken beyond measure. The back and forth my father chose to do hurt. I was so hurt I went to therapy, because I’d cry over everything and anything. I had to write in a diary three times a day to see if anything made a difference. I felt alone even with my mom, grandma, and family. I always thought it was my fault that he didn’t want to be around. 

Looking back at that little girl I wish I could just hug her tight. Let her know that it was never her fault. She’s always been loved by everyone around her. That she would overcome the hurt. But I can not and that’s ok. She held on pretty well. I am very proud of her.

No matter what she’s always had her mother behind her. Even when she didn’t see it, when she was so blinded in the hurt. When she doubted everyone's love and affection. What people don’t realize is that not always can you see the burden someone carries. And as a kid that burden is tough. Hiding it was tough but once you know how to hide it you can’t reveal it anymore. It just stays hidden and no one ever knows about it. 

That broken girl was the sweetest though. She was shy and practically a loner. She always had hope though. She believed that one day he’d come back and be the dad he should be. She never gave up on him. She prayed and prayed that one day everything would be ok. Cried to God on nights where it hurt the most. 

 Her mom never squashed that hope. Even when she knew the possibility of where it would all take her daughter emotionally. She remained her supporter no matter what. Those days where my sister and I would wait for hours on days he was supposed to pick us up. He wouldn’t show up. And there he did it again, breaking another piece of that little girl's heart.