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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1207442-The-Lost-Child
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1207442
It is hard to lose a child, over and over again!
  THE LOST CHILD

    I remember it like it was yesterday, "Come on Michelle, it's time to go," I said as I peeked into the other room.

    " But,I want to keep playing," She blurted.

    I walked into the room, as she looked up, her beautiful brown eyes sparkled and locked with mine.

    "So innocent," My inner voice screams, "How did I manage to ruin this little girl's life?"

    My brain is swirling with self accusations. It was my fault that this beautiful little girl's life was turned upside down. I thought back to my first decision, the biggest so far at my tender age of seventeen. I created this wonder and only wished that I could have been able to follow through with my responsibility. The whole experience was a horror and the one thing that brought me through it was the smiling face and powerful hug from my little girl once we were out of site.

    Everytime I picked her up at the other house, I would feel whole as she jumped in my arms. She would say," Hi Kevin." That part killed me. Like a sharp dagger thrust through my heart. It was not her fault, none of it was her fault. Her mother and stepfather would not allow her to call me "Dad." They did not want her to love me or show any emotion toward me. She learned through emotional bashing to distance herself from me when she was with her mom.

    When we got into the car, she would hug me. With a huge lump in my throat and the common swelling around my eyes, I would hug back. I hugged her so tight, because I knew the time was short. I would only have a few hours and lose her again.Thanks to a court order, I saw my little girl four times a month, I also went home crying four times a month. To this day, I never told her. I couldn't bear to pull that out of the deep hole it was buried in so long ago.


    The emotional bashing affected me too. I learned to hold my emotions back because they would get ripped apart every time I dropped her off. I left that house so many times with the image of her grimacing face, swelling eyes, flowing tears and a hand reaching toward me. I don't know if she was picking up on my withheld emotions or experiencing the same loss I was feeling. I suppose it was a little of both.

  We both learned to distance ourselves and only allow surface pleasure between us. It sounds strange, but it seemed to work. At the time, I did not realize what was happening. As I look back, I can understand it.  We both were physically drained by the constant tear of emotions. The two of us learned quickly, the things we did were fun, we laughed and fooled around. We created a love shell between us. The problem was our emotions were not allowed past that shell when we were together. Again, it seemed to work at the time.

  I know now it was an escape for me. I used the shell to escape from the turmoil. I could not live with losing my little girl over and over again. I would spend six and three quarter days thinking about her and three hours pushing the emotion down so that  we could enjoy our visit. I convinced myself that I was doing it for her, but I was really doing it for me. I just couldn't take the roller coaster. I wanted to be daddy every day and night, not just three hours a week.

  I suffered knowing someone else went to school functions, knowing that they presented her as their child, knowing that the important decisions did not include me. She was programmed to disassociate with me when I was not around. I hated knowing that she was so confused. I blame that on her mother.

    It could have been so different. I offered to take my little girl anytime they needed a babysitter. I asked to be informed of the school functions. I offered to buy her anything she needed, and demanded to be involved in medical and other important decisions. I was willing to be there, what ever it took. Her mother allowed none of it. All of that was stolen from me and from her.

    One day they asked me to give her up. Her step father wanted to adopt her. I couldn't believe they asked. How could they possibly think that I would even consider it. This was my girl, my baby. I would not give her up to anyone. In a way, I did give her up though and didn't even realize it. The normal bond was not allowed to grow. Every day life creates this bond and the constant reinforcement of it grows huge roots that run deep. My roots were continually cut. Cut by her mother, cut by her and cut by me.

    My little girl is all grown now and without the influence of her mother, we have grown some pretty deep roots. I love the grown Michelle, she will always be part of me. Most of the shell has crumpled away and we have rediscovered our similarities. I am still saddened when I think of  my little girl, the lost times, the little moments that we never had, the jealousy when thinking of who she might have had those moments with. My moments, our moments. They are gone, they were stolen from us.

    I understand that I have to bring these emotions up to heal. It is difficult to think of these things and write them down while wiping the tears from my eyes. I just hope she knew deep down inside all those years, that I did love her. I did want to be with her every day, but I couldn't tell her because she was lost. I want to rush up to her and say," I do love you Michelle, I always have."

    Dad 







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