Daddy Leaves

~

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:

After They Leave, Who Will Love Me?

A Memoir of struggle to find love after adoption, divorce and death