I wish I could give you my pain just for one moment. Not to hurt you, but so that you can finally understand how much you hurt me.- Anon.

Why have you left? Why have you left us for another person? Why did you do this, do you realize the pain you have caused? The pain that has stayed and can’t be taken away. At least not for now. I still remember. 

But do you?

I remember the day so clearly. I was five years old, playing upstairs with my sisters. We got called by you to come downstairs.  

“Girls, come downstairs!” you hollered.

“Coming!” we all chimed in unison. 

There you stood next to my mother. You were calm. You didn't even look upset. Maybe you were mad at us, or you just had something important to say. But it was neither of those. I got scared and clenched a pillow. I thought that something horrible was about to come out of your mouth. 

And sure enough, it did.

“I wanted to talk to you guys about something. I’m leaving today. I’m going to a new apartment. You'll still get to see me. Me and your mom are separating. I’m sorry.”

A pound of tears flowed down my face.  No! I thought. The words wouldn't come out. I was broken. My heart hurt. Why are you leaving? Do you not love us or something? WHY?!

 I finally found the words and said, “I love you, Dad.” 

You smiled and said it back. But you didn’t comfort my pain. After we said goodbye, you left. I watched you close the door and drive away in your black truck. Away from us. 

Gone.

 I sobbed so much that my head ached. So much that my clothes were soaked. I layed there on my mother's lap, scared and confused. 

But then words of comfort were brought to me, “We’re going to get through this together. We are going to be ok.” 

That was my mother, the one you left. My strong mother. 

So seven years later, I remember. I remember the pain, the words, everything. I remember it all. And it continues to hurt me. You continue without even knowing. You continue to take piece by piece of my heart,     

                                                                                           until it’s empty.