Many of the hard things in life make a person who they are. Some days, I wonder how I would have turned out if even the simplest things were different. I wonder if I would be exactly who I am today if I had a dad, not just some guy wondering around in a fantasy world calling himself my dad, not a part time dad either, but a whole one.

I grew up thinking my dad was a hero, but don’t all children feel that way about their dads too? I looked up to my dad, the smart, hard-working, laid back guy who was actually a complete stranger to me.

When I was little, I never realized how much time he spent away from us. I was much too young to understand anything that was going on. As I grew older, I noticed he was out of my life more than he should have been. I understand that some nights he would have to spend at hotels for work, but he wasn’t supposed to miss holidays, be gone for weeks at a time without a call home, or just simply be missing.

My dad abused drugs and always went missing for days at a time. Like the time he was gone a whole week getting stoned in his work truck while my mom was giving birth to my little brother. He cheated on my mom with eighteen-year olds that he met at supermarkets. He hit me when I sat on my high chair and refused to eat. When I was older, he upgraded from hitting me to punching holes in the walls of our apartment when I was sick and my throat was too sore to swallow pills.

When you grow up, you can get a better look at the pain and suffering this world has on display. It’s all there in front of your eyes. When you’re a child, you are sheltered from everything, but as you grow, your shelter starts to fall apart and you’re left stranded on a deserted island of despair and sorrow, completely free to see whatever it was you couldn’t before.