Took my first breath of air on Thursday, May 12th, 1994 at 12:26 p.m.
I was born to two teenage parents who both loved me dearly
It's not a lie when people say time passes by fast and life changes things.
As a child I looked at the other kids who's families were together.
Thinking mines was broken
Could not understand why my father was not there
It was a feeling that I could not bear.
Years of Christmas Holidays I have cried
Wondering why my father lied
Thinking my father was a deadbeat
The entire time he was trying to tell me you wouldn't understand yet, Neek.
When I became a teenager, I finally was told the truth
My father has a mental disorder that's why he was not there in my youth.
My ignorance as a child made me think my father did not love me.
Soon as I found out what was going on I started building our relationship again immediately.
Conversations on the phone, daily visits, and he would even cook a meal for me.
Fellow students at school would come up to me and say your dad was talking to me and he made no sense. They'd laugh in my face.
To everyone else he was referred to as that crazy man always walking down the street, but to me he was my loving father who loved me unconditionally.
Nothing people said could change what my father meant to me.
I graduated and moved out of state to better myself, and I visited him everytime I went back to my hometown.
Told my dad soon as I graduate college and get a career he could move with me and he smiled and agreed.
However, my father's time ran short.
His life was taken from him, from us and my life almost shattered completely apart.
On Friday, May 15th, 2015, a man decided to take my father's life
He showed no mercy with his knife.
Did not even think about my father's family.
Or what his life meant to others.
Compassion, the killer did not even bother.
I'm hurt because it was so much my father had to see and be apart of in his children's lives and it was taken from him
I lost my job and almost lost sight of who I was and what I was going to be, it hurts and words can't explain what my father meant to me.
Everyday I think of falling apart, then I think about how much my father loved me.
Sometimes I feel as if he is there and others I'm just wishing I can see his face and hear him call me his baby girl again.
I just want to hug him one more time.
And to everyone with parents or family close to you that have schizophrenia or any other mental disorders, do not feel discouraged because loved one is mentally ill.
Your loved one has feelings, and they do love you as much as you love them. Continue loving them and keeping them close.
I am just wishing I could bring back my dear father.