My family has always revolved around my father, who raised me single-handedly, looked after me, and stood by me through thick and thin. Not long after I was born, my mum left us, and my dad decided never to marry again, perhaps wary of heartbreak. Life wasnt always kind to him, and I wanted to grow up quickly so I could support him in whatever responsibilities he had as the head of our little household.
Given how tight our finances were, I started working when I was just 15. I wrote articles for our local papers, and after three years, managed to land a better job. A few more years passed, and I finally got a desk job that meant I could support myself and my dad without worrying too much about money. One afternoon, my father called me for what he described as a serious conversation. I felt a bit uneasy. When I entered the sitting room, I found a woman waiting there. According to Dad, she was my mother.
The moment she saw me, she burst into tears, apologised, and tried to hug me. I just couldnt bring myself to embrace her. Carefully, I slipped out of her arms and walked away without saying anything, leaving the two of them alone. I decided it was best to let my father deal with it in whatever way he saw fit. I cant forgive someone who so thoughtlessly abandoned us, who didnt even bother to wish me happy birthday over the years.
Looking back, I realise that family isnt just about bloodits about loyalty and showing up for each other. I owe everything to my dad, and the lesson I carry forward is simply this: I wont ever take for granted the people who stick by me when life gets tough.
