When you think of the world, "heartbreak," you think of your first crush, or love that for some reason did not work out. Google's definition of heartbreak is: "Noun; overwhelming distress."

At nine-years-old, the word heartbreak had never crossed my mind. None of my Disney princess movies ended in heartbreak. The musicals I watched on repeat always had a happy ending. I can't say the word heartbreak was even a part of my vocabulary. My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, were all happily married from my perspective. I would have never guessed my first heartbreak would hit so soon.

Eleven years ago, my dad was away on a trip -- which wasn't unusual because of his job at the time. I remember my mom, brother and I going to eat supper at my grandparent's house, other members of my family were there as well. Again, this was not unusual. What was unusual was a man I had never seen before, showing up at the front door. My brother and I were forced to sit in another room. It felt like we were in there forever. When we were finally allowed to come out, my mom took me upstairs, pulled me into her lap, and looked deep into my eyes. The next words she spoke are something I will never forget. "Your dad is not coming home."

My dad was not coming home? What did that mean? Why would that happen? My family was happy. I was happy. My parents always looked happy. How could my dad just not be coming home? That didn't make any sense. I remember crying. I didn't understand anything that was going on around me. I had never come in contact with parents fighting, splitting up, getting divorced. All of that was foreign to me.

My heart broke that day. I felt it. The air catches in your throat. Your mind goes blank. Everything around you gets blurred out. The tears come, and you don't know how to make them stop. You hurt, a deep internal ache, that I'm not really sure there are words to describe it. Every part of you shuts down. Nothing about your body or mind is working correctly. You go numb.

Here I am, almost 21-years-old, and I remember that day like it was yesterday. I can hear my mother's words ring so clearly in my mind. I was nine-years-old when I had my first heartbreak. The very first mark made on my young naïve heart. The first scar. The first major disappointment of my whole life. The first time anyone had ever left me. Abandoned me.

All these years later, it isn't easier. When I look back on my first heartbreak, the air still gets caught in my throat, and my insides ache. I'm not bitter by any means. I love my dad with all my heart. But Sheryl Crow was not wrong when she said," The first cut is the deepest." My first cut just happened to be by my dad. But, man, oh man, do I wish it had been by some stupid boy like I had seen in movies.