~
One, my mother,
Two, my sister,
Three, my brother…
He left us…
He left me.
~
Time, I suppose, does have its own way
of healing wounds. Just like I have no
recollection of being told I was adopted, or that my dad was leaving the
family, I also have no specific memory of being told my parents were
divorced.
I don’t have a memory of my daddy leaving. To my knowledge, he didn’t sit me down upon
his lap. He didn’t hold me in his arms. He
didn’t crouch down on one knee and put his hands upon my shoulders and look me
in the eyes to tell me he was leaving me.
As far as I know, one day when I was three-and –a-half years old, he
left our house and never came home again.
... More to come! Excerpts taken from book I am writing:
... More to come! Excerpts taken from book I am writing:
After They Leave, Who Will Love Me?
A Memoir of struggle to find love after adoption, divorce and death
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