Father…

My father was a great man, who loved and adored his family especially his little girl (aka me). My father taught me everything I know like, how to ride a bicycle, and how to throw a proper punch as to defend myself and stuff like that. He made me happy and I couldn’t ask for a better Father. He’d leave work early to pick me up from school so we can cook dinner for both me and my mother. We were his number one priority. One day my Father didn’t come to pick me up from school. I remember how long I waited for him after school but he never showed so I started walking home. On my way home I felt my eyes watering, and without a blink the tears came rolling down like a river flow. But it wasn’t the fact that my father couldn’t pick me up that day that made me cry. It was the realisation that I was growing up and that my imagination wasn’t as good anymore as when I was a child. I realised that the perfect image that I created in my head of my Father was no more. Ever since that day, I’d cry myself to sleep every night wondering why he doesn’t want me. Why he won’t accept me and why he doesn’t want to be in my life.