Every human in this world has gone through what we refer to as “the dark times”, times where we questioned our life, and what god wants from us, times when we were just about to fall from the highest mountain. All because we were going through tough times, times we would think never end.

I was never one of those girls who had strong relationships with her father. I was never the “daddy’s girl” like my friends would be. I would always see how my friend’s dad would talk to them or hug them and I would always think to myself why my dad wasn’t that type of father, a loving one, but the only explanation was he just wasn’t like them.  At least I had my mother to kiss me, hug me and be there for me.

Some days I would hear my mom and dad fighting, it was always my father’s fault. My father is a very proud man, he would always think he was right and if he wasn’t, which was mostly every time, he would never accept it. It was either his way or the highway. Sunday’s afternoon my sisters and I weren’t allowed to speak in the car, not even to choose where to eat, if we discussed where to go he would get in the worst humor and take us back home “punished”. My mom feels guilty remembering these times because she would be the one to tell us, “Please don’t speak, don’t cause arguments, just agree on whatever he wants.”

The sun was beaming brighter than any shooting star; it was a very hot day. During afterschool sports I almost died, sweat drops shivering through my face until they would slowly crash into the hard gray floor, and disappear.  After all my afterschool activities would come to an end, I went home, and as usual, the first thing I would do was go upstairs to see my mom and just tell her what went on during my day. This time, something caught my attention, and it was my dad, he was packing many of his things, and clothes into a luggage. I didn’t remember hearing about an emergency trip he had to make so it just didn’t make sense. As he closed his luggage he walked right in front of me and said “goodbye”. But it was not a happy goodbye; it was a serious, deep, sad goodbye. I would just look at my mom, who at the time was sitting in her couch looking at her computer; she wouldn’t even look at me. I was desperate and anxious at this time. I needed to know what was going on. NOW.

When my dad left my house, all of my sisters were out of town, either studying or living in other cities. I remember I wasn’t supposed to tell one of my sisters, Toty what was going on back home, but I told her anyways.

Once my dad left, nobody would talk in my house, everything was quiet. The only things I would hear were the squeaky sounds coming from the wooden floors.
Even though I wouldn’t tell my mom how I felt about the whole situation, it really bothered me. It’s heart wrenching to know that my own father doesn’t care about me, or even bother to ask how I feel. In two years that have passed, there have been many important events, such as my 6th grade graduation and 7th grade as well, my soccer tournaments, my singing concerts, not one of them was he ever there. I couldn’t put the pieces in my mind, and justify what my dad had done to us, to me, it just wasn’t the correct thing to do, leave your four daughters and you wife who you’ve been married to for 24 years. Not in anybody’s mind would that be the correct thing to do. I will always say that the reason I will never fully forgive him will be because he left without explaining; the only thing I wanted to know is “why”. Why, why, why.
How did he have the courage to do something that takes a lot of guts, but then just leave, like a total coward, because that is what he is.

Watching my mom was the most painful thing of all. Watching how she slowly isolated herself, even from us. She would stay all day in her room, staring at her computer; like she was hypnotized. I feel ashamed to say this, but I slept with my mom, in her bed for about 5 months, my sisters would get mad at me for doing this, saying I was too old to be doing that but I couldn’t help it, I didn’t want to leave my mom alone, and I myself, didn’t want to be alone.

In the last two years, my mom has been economically struggling; from my dad she has not received anything. It’s like we don’t even exist.  I admire my mom so much for being a single mom and being able to take us forward and putting on a brave face even in the most difficult times. Even when she was still married to my dad, she was the one that worked days and nights so that we could have the best school and the best education. My mom once told me something that my dad told her when we were young, “I can’t pay the school anymore, so let’s start looking for cheaper ones.” My mom was so furious at this time, how could he say that in the most relaxed way, so instead of standing there, arms crossed, she got a job and
started making a change.

My oldest sister Melissa, who lives in Mexico, defends my dad like crazy. Like if he was a saint.  I hate it because it’s not fair, it’s not fair how he can do the worst things, but still have the support of one of my sisters. Its frustrating how I  get blamed for not wanting to talk to him, I am the one that’s supposedly doing something wrong, that’s not okay. Deep inside me it hurts to have my sister tell me that, and get mad at me for making my own decisions.  It takes time to cure scars. Time is all I need.

People ask my why, but I’m afraid of my dad. It was 1 a.m. in the morning, a cold night, couldn’t have been darker. My mom was out of town and the only people in the house were my sister Regina, the maids and I, one of my maids was sleeping in my room that night, we were already dead asleep when we heard screaming coming from outside. It was my dad. He was yelling with all his lungs “ Open the freaking door! Open the gate! What are you waiting for?!” My nana and I were scared to death; my father had already been kicked out of my house, “why was he back”, and when my mom wasn’t in town. The next thing I know he was in the house, I could hear long, heavy footsteps approaching down the hall, before he entered my room I closed my eyes as if asleep, he came in banging on the door and turning on every light possible, I couldn’t even see. He yelled “Who took the control out of my car, who was it!” I could see his face, filling up with anger, he was turning red.
“I don’t know, I really don’t know” I would answer in the lightest, kindest voice I could make up. He closed the door and walked to his room. As soon as he got in his room my nana stood up and locked the door, I was glad she did. All night I was scared, I kept thinking, what if he did something to my sister, or to me, why is he back here, he shouldn’t be.

Life is not always fair, but you have to take advantage of what you have and be happy. I don’t think before this event in my life I would have considered myself a happy person, and now I do.
I am definitely a person that thinks everything happens for a reason, and it does. If it wouldn’t have been for my mom’s marriage, my sisters and I wouldn’t exist, and my family would not be, as close as it is right know. I do think that after all, everyone deserves a second chance, but it has to be when you are ready, and for me that chance might take a little more time. I learned many valuables things from this experience. I learned how to be strong, how to be thankful at all times, but most importantly I learned how to understand people, and how to be empathetic and mature. I have definitely grown enormously as a person. This experience will always stay present in my heart through all my life; it has shaped me into a better version of myself.