Deciding I needed to write the truth was the easy part. The hard part was actually finding the words to say what was going on inside me. It was hard enough to admit how broken I am to myself and God, but letting everyone else see inside me was even harder. My moment of clarity in the car two days ago ended, and I was stuck. My passion for writing was something I got from my dad. Growing up he was the only person who knew how to help cure my writer's block. Not having him in life was killing me, but I just didn't understand how he could let my mom leave. I didn't understand how he could choose my cousin over the woman he claimed to love. All I wanted was to talk to him, but I didn't know what to say. Everything I wanted to say would end up as angry bitter words. My relationship with him was already damaged. I didn't want to break it, but I had to talk to him. I prayed for God to give me the right words, and I called my dad.

The phone call with my dad went fairly well. We agreed that talking over the phone wasn't a good idea. We decided to meet at the park. I grabbed my phone and keys and headed out. My mom was out, so I left her a note in case she came home. The drive to the park was short, although it felt like and eternity. As I pulled in, I remembered all the times my dad brought me here growing up. It was my favorite place in the whole world to read and write. I got out of my car and headed to my favorite spot. As I approached it, I saw my dad sitting under the large oak tree.

"Hey, Dad." I said. "You remembered."

"How could I forget?" He asked. "Every time I brought you here, you made a direct beeline to this tree." He smiled.

"Not much has changed." I replied. "At least when it comes to this tree."

He smiled, though he wouldn't lift his head and look at me.

"Dad," I choked back my tears. "I've got a lot I want to say to you and ask you. Once the words are out I won't be able to take them back, but I can't exactly hold them in anymore."

"I had a feeling." He said, still not looking at me.

"I prayed for the right words. I prayed for strength, but this is so hard." I couldn't fight the tears. "I just don't understand. How could you choose April over Mom?"

"That's not fair." I could hear the anger building in his voice. "Your mom left. She just left me. I didn't have much of a choice."

"Don't give me that excuse, Dad." I was losing control. I took a deep breath and asked God for help. "You know why she left. It's not like you guys never fought about it. You had to know she wasn't going to put up with it forever."

"You don't get it, Mitchy!" He said sounding defeated.

"Then, explain it to me." I said as my voice cracked.

"April is the only thing I have left of my brother. How am I supposed to put my own blood out on the streets with no where to go?" My dad was yelling now.

"We've had this discussion before. You and mom have had this discussion before. It would be different if April was making an effort, but she's not. She treats you and mom like crap and takes advantage of you. She's destroying your marriage, and you're letting her!" I yelled back.

"April didn't make your mother leave! She made that decision all on her own!"

"You didn't do anything to stop her!"

"It's just like you to take your mom's side. Maybe if you guys were nicer to April, she'd want to change!"

"She has no reason to change! She has everything she could ever want or need living with you, and this isn't about taking sides! I'm mad mom left, and I'm mad you let her! The only side I'm on is the side of your marriage! Which is more than I can say for you, and excuse me if I don't want to play 'happy family' with April and pretend like everything is okay when it's not!" I was sobbing now.

My dad just stood there mad at me, staring at the ground. He wasn't saying anything. The final piece of my life had broken. I don't know how long we stood there like that, not speaking. I got my sobs under control, and there was nothing left but silence.

"I don't want to fight anymore." I finally said. "Do you even know why I called you?"

My dad slowly lifted his head and shrugged his shoulders at me.

"I called because I needed you. I needed you the way I did when I was a little girl with a bad case of writer's block. I'm a broken little girl inside who just needs her daddy." I let one last tear slide down my cheek, and I walked away.

When I reached my car, I realized something. Every piece of me was broken; every part of my life had fallen apart. The only thing left was to be put back together again. I looked up toward heaven with tears in my eyes. I started my car and left the park. I wasn't ready to go home yet, so I just drove around for hours.