When I was really little my father walked out on us. I was close to him and when he left my mother told me I would cry for days and for many hours asking for my father to return. He did not return nor did my mother do anything to ease my pain, she was glad to get rid of him.
To comfort my little mind I would pretend he was still home with us. I imagined he told me stories of faraway places and dragons and newly discovered islands with wild natives chopping trees and killing monkeys.
In my little mind we would go to the library and he would teach me about sail boats and trains and planes, travel and cooking and reading the dictionary to learn new words.
In my little mind he would tuck me in my cold lonely bed; he would put my teddy bear, kitty cat and kangaroo beside me to keep me warm and safe. In my dreams my father was always there protecting me.
In my little mind he would brush my hair and we would have tea parties until bedtime. He would watch me ride my bike and roller skate and lovingly listen to my worries and bring Band-Aids for my boo boos.
My little mind had conjured up the only way of dealing with the grief of losing my father by pretending he was still with me.
I tell that little girl that she is a genius to have comforted herself in order to keep some sanity and manage her grief. She didn’t do anything to cause her father from leaving and I love her so much.
As life would have it time goes on and the memories get buried deeply on a cellular level. In everyday life my father rarely came up except on Father’s day and Christmas and Birthday’s and in almost every dream.
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