Today is a significant day – at least for me. Normally an ordinary Thursday, and granted it hasn’t been all roses. But today marks the anniversary of a significant change in my life.
15 years ago today, my father told me to gather my things, and we left the home I had lived in for 9 years. I remember the day very well. I was 13. I didn’t really understand at the time the seriousness of what was happening. It was my step-sister’s birthday, and something must have happened that pushed my father too far. I didn’t get to take everything with me. I left a lot of personal stuff there, which I know was thrown out. But I gathered a few bags (i don’t remember much of this at all), and I remember sitting on the couch watching the events of the day unfold — my step-mother crying, pleading for him not to leave.
And we left. And life went on. I met my first boyfriend the next year. Grew to become emotionally independent (if not withdrawn) and personally responsible as my father began working as much as he could to support us.
Scary decision on his part. But that was probably the most respectable thing I’ve ever seen him do for me. And I know the actions were largely for me.
So, today is for dad (something I wouldn’t normally do otherwise), and I thank him for ending the turmoil and strife that had made me miserable for several years of my childhood.