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Rated: E · Essay · Dark · #2072192
A personal story about my dad and hardships (originally a personal narrative for English).
My Knight and Hero

         It had been 9 months since my dad last told me he loved me. When he truly brought me into his built arms and held me close to his enlarged stomach where I could smell the strong aroma of Old Spice body wash stuck to his body. The security and love I felt by such a simple action was overwhelming. Nothing could compare to that feeling. I could still smell his scent...but it was the only true reminder that I would never be able to hear him say those three loving words again.
         My dad wasn't always like this. He used to care about me so much that even when I was crying, he would be right there next to me in my bed, comforting me in his own special way. I looked up to him. He was my hero and knight in shining armour. But then came the divorce in the year I turned 6. I only got to see him once every week over at my grandma's house and those visits were the highlight of my week.
         As I grew older, however, my dad started to date another woman who I absolutely disliked and spat at her name with disgust. I couldn't see how my dad fancied her in such a way that he would eventually marry the witch. I was confused and angry. How could my dad just simply move on from my mom over to a woman who was worse in parenting and made my dad look like a poor dirty man she plucked from the streets? My anger grew but I bit my tongue at the announcement of their engagement. I didn't think things could get any worse.
         But I was wrong. My dad had a brain tumor on the same year he got remarried and one-fourth of his brain was cut out from his skull. That was when everything went to hell. I no longer saw my knight in shining armour who always knew what to say to calm me down. I saw a hideous monster who yelled and hit everything he found to be disappointing and filthy. He saw me as one of the targets...and I never went to his house again.
         A couple years passed since the day I no longer visited him up in Centerville but he would make frequent visits over to my home to pick up my younger brother so he could visit my dad. Those times I did receive the hugs, I received the small kisses on the head, and I heard those tiny words that were so small but so meaningful. It came to the point where he couldn't even bear to look at me without making a glare to my direction and to where he stopped saying that he loved me. I truly thought that he didn't care about me...and I believed he tossed me into the garbage like I was unwanted furniture.
         There was one day, September 7th to be exact, where I gave one last try to see if he cared to even speak to me through text. It was my dad's birthday. I was in my room, sitting by my computer with my phone in hand. I sent him a text, slightly shaking all over in my body saying, "Hope you have a good day. I love you. Happy Birthday." I knew I had little hope in hearing back from him. But I had to try.
         The next day passed....then 2 days....3....4....one week....no reply. I was angry to tears, even though I knew it was a lost cause to begin with. But then my brother came into my room the week after I sent my dad the text and he said to me that I had the wrong number. Which confused me because I thought I had the right one since my dad gave me the number himself. So I tried one last time that night with the different phone number while clinging to the last bit of hope in my heart.
         And then...my phone lit up, indicating that I had got a message from my father. I hastily picked up my device and read the message with my heart beating a million miles a minute. The words on the screen read, "Thanks. I love you too."
         ....I love you too...
         My fragile heart swelled up in my chest and rose like a hot air balloon ready to take flight. Tears cascaded down my red tinted cheeks and dropped down to the soft cotton in my black shirt. The corners of my lips perked up and brought about a shining expression against my tear stained face. I clutched the phone tightly against my chest with both hands as I continued to cry out of joy and love. I knew then that my dad... my knight in shining armour... my hero loved me. And he always will.

The End

© Copyright 2016 Caitlin Washnock (gravity_factor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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