He was always good to me. I know I was his favorite. Without a doubt. He would always favor my opinions and be on my side, majority of the time anyways. He rarely got angry and when he did, he’d come and comfort me afterwards. I mean, he did that with all of us though.
He wasn’t the best partner though. He treated her badly and in turn she hates her life. She despises him, although they stay amicable, I can see in her eyes that he hurt her real badly and she never got over it. I don’t think she ever will. I’ve told her to. Numerous times. She’s stubborn though.
I love them both equally. But I get along with him better. We are similar but yet so different. His mistakes have taught me not to intentionally hurt people, no matter what. I don’t hate him for it, but thinking about it still hurts, sometimes.
He left when we were really young. He never told us he was leaving. He just said he had to live closer to work. I was satisfied with that answer because he would visit every weekend. It was exciting. But I was just a naive child.
I didn’t think about how she felt every time he came over. I was selfish and only cared about myself. She almost stabbed him once. I woke up in the middle of the night to find her blacked out in the middle of the hallway, with a knife. I tried to wake her up, but I couldn’t. I cried. I thought she had died and I thought it was my fault, somehow thinking that I liked him better forced her to try and kill herself. I will never forget that night. It’s embedded in my brain so vividly, I don’t think it will ever leave me.
Things got super intense the older we got. He would try and come over but she would try and ignore him while he was knocking on the window or door. It broke my heart that I couldn’t let him in. He would be calling our names and asking us to let him in but she kept telling us to ignore him.
Growing up, I always missed him living with us. I mean, he’s still around, but I wanted him to be around all the time. Although he was at times an asshole, he was still an important person to me. He still is. I hated how she would always speak badly of him and try and make us hate him. I know why she did it now, but it still made me angry.
When things were good, she would let us go out with him. He used to drive this ugly orange car, that he loved. We used to pretend we were Cinderella going inside the pumpkin carriage.
That’s probably the only happy memory I have of him. Which is sad. I don’t look at my childhood with a smile, but when I look back all I can do is cry.
I don’t hate her for bringing us up the way she did. She was in a foreign country, she couldn’t speak the language, and he ditched her. I know she did her best and I think because she is such a strong woman, we grew up well.
But at times, I wish I could go back, and change things. Maybe my view on love, relationship and marriage might be more pure than it is now, if he hadn’t done what he did.