Broken Home
In the early years of my childhood, I had witnessed what seemed to be my worst upheaval in family life. It was a day I would never forget. It plays in my mind as if it were a movie stuck on replay. It was the day where my family and I officially farewelled my father’s presence, and residence in the same home. It marked the beginning of a challenging life which was awaiting my first-hand experience.
I recall my fathers’ last words before he permanently took off… “Kids, I’ll be back in a week or two, depending on how fast I finish the job, I can’t promise you that, but I’ll see what I can do”. I remember looking in his eyes, studying his facial expressions, although I was too young to understand, but it was very clear to me that he did not mean what he said. I knew for a fact that his ‘job’ was the only way he would get away from the family misery. I didn’t feel the strong connection to his soft words, which reassured my other siblings that he would be coming back once his job was complete. I knew that he simply had enough. We all did. We had no chance but to live a normal life, except with only one parent. My mother struggled to please us, sacrificing her life and happiness just to put a smile on each of our faces. She played the role of a father, a mother, our mentor, and our friend. She was our only inspiration in life. Our only hope that one day we would be reunited with our father. Every night she would kneel beside her bed and pray to the Lord above to help her in satisfying our needs and wants, being the sun that shines every day, even when the rain is pouring outside. I remember peeking through the slightly open bedroom door and overhearing her solemn prayers. She cried out…. “ Oh dear Lord, give me the patience, comfort and reassurance that one day the father of my three children would return to his loving, heart-broken family to make up for the 5 years he spent away from his home, bring back the true happiness to our family life, bestow upon...