Friday, March 14, 2014


Once again I find myself writing about my father. For the first sixteen years of my life, he was my hero. He was someone I could look up to, trust, love and admire. During my junior and senior years of high school, however, that all came tumbling down around me.

It started when I realized what it meant for him to be leaving home every night after dinner and staying out until midnight or later. I didn't know if my mother was aware of the probability that he had a girlfriend, but I was very sure that was what was going on. It even got to the point where I confronted him about it. I told him that if he didn't really want to be with us, he should just move out, so that all of us could get on with our lives and not be stuck in limbo.

Six weeks later, he finally did move out---and shortly after that, we found that he had not one, but THREE girlfriends. Needless to say, I was heartbroken and totally disillusioned. My father had turned out to be someone so very different from the man I had idolized. Even though our relationship was healed over time, I never was able to look at him in the same way I had as a young girl.

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