❤️Facing Fears ❤️

Prologue

POV: Faya

    I still remember the day my father left. He had his heart set on the military, and no one, I repeat no one, would hold him back. Sometimes I wish I had his passion, to be able to follow my dreams. But than I remember where it led him and to which extreme. And it reminds me of who he is and everything's he has done. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to be the reason my family struggles the way we did. Not when us, his family, his pregnant wife, and 3 kids weren't good enough for him to stay. His elderly parents were given no mind. They weren't even informed of his decision. They were forgotten by him. Only when he needed something did he care to contact them. My grandparents deserved so much better. Yet time and time again they helped him. How could they not help their only son?

        We don't hear from him anymore. Nor do we want to. It seems however that our thoughts aren't exactly shared. He's constantly asking his parents for updates on our lives, all of us. I don't understand why he can't just contact us. What's so hard about picking up a phone and calling us. For this reason, I no longer hold any respect for him. He's a coward. Something I guess not even the military was able to remove from him. He will always run away from his problems.

        I was 13 when he left. My younger brothers were 12 and 9. I faintly recall my brothers crying and screaming, "Don't go, dad please don't go!!!" It broke my mother's and I's heart. I of course, was also devastated but I was more mad at him than anything. He didn't deserve my tears. He didn't care to ask what we thought of it. He didn't care to think of what it would do to us. It was all about him. Him, him, him, just him. Not his family. Never us. It was only what he wanted. I guess he didn't want his wife and kids. So why should I continue to waste my time on a lost cause. I wouldn't.
    So I didn't cry when he left. I didn't cry that week or the month after but the moment my baby sister was born, I broke down. I couldn't help but think how she would grow up, without a father. Without all the things that came with us. Everything me and my siblings had been lucky and unlucky to experience. To never see her parents arguing and to never be the cause of it. To never have a father figure at all. It was awful. So I cried for her. And I cried for us, because we had also lost something. I just didn't realize it, until that moment. We didn't have a dad anymore. I hate to admit it, but sometimes, I struggle to remember that this was it.
I can still faintly recall my mother crying and hugging him for the final time and over the course of 8 years we only heard from him 6 times. Only the first 4 were directly from him. We received one every new year for each of his 4 years of military service. The last two came from phone calls, not even his, but from the hospitals in where he resided the few times he was injured. There was also the time when the divorce papers were handed to my mom, but I rather not recall that. It reminds me of how much better we are without him. Because he couldn't even do this himself. What type of human being tells his lawyer to break the news. He's a coward. He should have been the one to hand those documents to my mom. To see her break down and start crying. To see us start crying to because we thoughts the worst. They were supposed to break the news together, not his lawyer.  My first thought is always why it had to be 5 years after he'd left. Why not sooner.
I soon realized that we actually, truly meant nothing to him. He never met their last child Savannah, my sweet, sweet sister. But I guess she didn't matter to him.
His reason for divorce was that he was expecting another child. One that was not from my mother. My mom never did let us believe this fact. She said it was just an excuse. That he didn't want to hurt us by being away anymore. That he wanted her to move on and not wait for him to come back, because he was serving his country and would rarely ever be home. But it didn't matter what she tried to tell us. I had read his final letter to her. I knew the truth.
Sav craved a father figure so bad, but that was robbed from her just as quickly as she was born. I always wished it had turned out differently. But it didn't. It didn't, and it wouldn't, and it sucked, but I got over it. I just wished she would to.
She is still a child. Soon she'll turn 8. It's hard for her to understand that it was out of her control, and we can't do anything about it. Sometimes, I do wish my mother remarried but she never did. She always hoped that he would come back. Now, after not having seen or heard from him in 8 years, he contacted us and asked to see us all in two weeks. The wedding invitation sitting on the counter was just a small reminder to what was awaiting us. It's clear that my moms thoughts will never happen. He wants to clear things up. He wants us to give him a chance. But I'm not so sure I want that. After all, it shouldn't take 8 years to contact your kids. To remember you have kids in the first place. Are we that easily replaced? I guess to him we are. The humor in it is quite saddening.