When I was a little girl, eleven years old to be exact, my mom went missing. The morning of, she made me breakfast and everything, like usual, and dropped me off at school. I never saw her again. She vanished and we looked hopelessly for months until we finally gave up hope. As a young woman, growing up without a mom was hard. All of my friends had their mothers to show them how to do girly things like makeup and shoe shopping. Although I wasn't into any of that because I would rather play sports, I still wished I had the opportunity. I didn't get the lecture on maturing or anything. Instead, I got a watered down version from my dad who really tried, but just couldn't fill mom's void.
My dad remained a single father–he didn't date or even attempt to connect with another woman after my mom disappeared. I think he held on to the hope that one day, she'd come back. He stayed alone, focusing on work and me. My dad gave me everything I wanted and needed. He taught me how a man should treat me and always instilled values, respect, and confidence in me. He constantly reminded me that mom vanishing was in no way my fault, along with allowing me to express any frustration I had about the situation. At first, I felt guilty and unwanted. At times, I even wished we'd just find out she was dead or something to get rid of that unknown feeling. Eventually, dad helped me to resolve my issues and became the best parent a girl could wish for.
Dad really helped me through such a bruising moment in my life and everything remained fine, until I became a teenager full of turmoil and pain. When I turned sixteen, it was like all of dad's hard work to make me emotionally stable melted away. I once asked dad if he killed mom and his feelings got so hurt, he shed tears right in front of me. He didn't speak to me for weeks after until the anniversary of mom's disappearance. He sat me down in the car and gave me a heart-to-heart which, against his wishes, led us to restart the search for mom.
Dad pulled all his connections to help us look for mom. It was a cold case by now, but I was the flame to warm it up. However, the search was like pouring acid into an open wound. The pain of everything hit all at once and I selfishly watched it break dad's heart. After our talk, I explained to him that I was in desperate need of closure and he agreed to put aside his repressed feelings and help me get what I needed. As I watched the memories crash into dad's mind like ocean waves during a hurricane, I noticed something that we didn't see 5 years ago. As if it fell from the sky, I remembered an event from that morning. Mom and I had a slight disagreement while she was driving me to school. I began to remember it as clear is if it were happening that very moment. She wanted me to wear a dress for picture day, but I insisted on wearing an outfit that I picked out myself. I just wanted to express myself without having mom's feminine touch that made me cringe. I remember, she said something weird like, "girls who love and appreciate their mommies do as they're told" and I said something annoying like, "maybe I don't". My mom stayed quiet for a few seconds and then sadly told me, "I'll understand when I'm older." I could tell I hurt her feelings as I saw her eyebrows knit sadly in the rear view mirror. After mulling over that wretched memory, I wondered for a moment if that was her way of telling me she was leaving. Randomly, I was startled out of my daze by dad telling me he found mom. He was crying what he claimed were tears of joy, but you could smell the agony of his broken heart. Mom was alive! All I could feel was an emptiness, which turned out to be the gut feeling that something bad was going to come of out discovery.
My feeling was right. Mom started a new family a few states away. She'd left us without warning and moved on to a new life. She changed her name and appearance and never bothered to contact us. I never bothered her once I found out the truth. I sent her a few letters at first, but after getting no response, I figured she didn't want a relationship with me. I resented her, and my dad resented me for digging up a truth that was too hard for him to swallow. He drank a lot now and we spoke little. Things are weird between us, but will be ending soon since I'm turning eighteen in a month and off to college. We lost our father-daughter relationship and most of all, I missed my dad's friendship. Things were different now. I was a numb, dark, jaded child after uncovering the truth, while dad was a drunk, barely coping with the day to day tasks of life. In a crushing turn of events, for my 18th birthday, I secretly purchased a one-way ticket to go see my mom. I'd saved up the money to buy it since I found out she was alive and next month, on October 10th, I'm going to see my mom.
The day came and I was happy to know I'd finally get my answers. But when the moment came and I got to her door, the house was vacant.
