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I Don't Have a Father.

April 7, 2016

I don't have a father.

He is not dead.

He is very well alive. I have his number, his address, and I can talk to him at any moment.
He did not completely abandon my family and disappear.
I met him. I visit him
Often.

But when I think of the word "father," I don't think of him.

I have a step-dad.

A man who respects and supports me in every way, more than my biological father could ever dream of. He is proud of who I am, and proud to call me his daughter.

But when I think of the word "father," I don't think of him.

I have a boss.

When I was 18, he took me under his wing to help finance and support my education, giving me my first official job. He fueled my confidence and showed me that I can stand on my own two feet.

But when I think of the word "father," I don't think of him.

I have an uncle.

When my father showed me he doesn't care, leaving my education unfinanced and leading to multiple almost-expulsions from schools, he would come to my rescue and assure that I could have a future.

But when I think of the word "father," I don't think of him.

I have a mother.

She raised me to be a strong, independent, and educated woman, and taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to.

When my father made a promise, she would keep it in his stead, so that my respect would not go unfounded.

Even though my fathers did many wrongs, she would keep them from me in order to protect my faith in the world.

When I think of the word "father," I think of her.
































 

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