December 24, 2006- The one day that will forever be inscribed in my memory, for this was the last time I saw my father. There are many people in this world that can relate to me in the sense that they have dealt with divorce, but unlike me most children are able to see their parents on occasion. I do not have that luxury. I haven’t for seven years.

Of all events in my life, the one-day I remember every insignificant detail about is the day my family and I moved away from my father. I was only eight years old. At such a vulnerable age I had to abandon all my friends and family. Not only were we moving out of the house, we were moving to a completely different state. The worst part of all, was I had no idea about the move until the night before. When my mother told me we were leaving, I thought it was going to be like every other time. We would leave for a few days and then return home, where we would continue to live as if everything was perfectly normal. At this point in my life I had lost all trust in friends, family, and even myself. My life had consisted of shutting people out, allowing little to no room for hope of a happier life. I had felt let down not only by my father, but by my mother as well, for she never warned or explained to me why we were moving.
December 25, 2006- This was the first day my mother, brother, and I started our journey as a broken family. At sunrise, my mother had begun the drive; it finally started to sink in. We were briskly moving farther away from my complete family, and we weren’t going back.

I was just in elementary school when all of this was occurring- young, carefree and oblivious to it all. However, as time passed on I had begun to feel a vacuum in my life, sucking away everything I knew and found joy in. Not only had my surroundings changed, but the personalities of my family did as well. My mother tried her best to hide her broken heart from my little brother and I but she didn’t fool me because I saw right through her.

Growing up, I had a passive anger towards my mother for making me move away from the man in my life that I held dear to my heart. I never shared some of my most important memories with my father, and I will never be daddy’s little girl. Yes, this still bothers me but I have come to realize my mother had to make this decision for the good of our family. It was not until this year that my mother had told me the reasons for their separation. My father hurt her, not physically, but the emotional damage he had inflicted on her was just as destructive as any bruise or broken bone. She was only trying to protect us from receiving that same pain. Time after time, my mother has given me the option to see my father, but all I can think about when he crosses my mind is how he hurt his own family due to selfish actions.

Ultimately, experiencing this event has not only caused me to become a stronger and more independent individual, but it has also caused me to value, understand, and respect the people who would do anything for those they care most about. If you truly care about someone, you will do whatever it takes to make sure they are taken care of. I have grown in the sense that I am willing to do what it takes to make sure my family is in good hands, as well as my future.