“His secret life became an open book. My mother would wake me at 3:00 a.m. on school nights to sneak my father’s phone from the bedroom. I’d translate endless emails he wrote to various women. He was unfaithful. She’d collapse at my knees and sob. One day, I walked into the office. I opened the filing cabinet and flipped to the very back. There, I uncovered a large yellow folder. My innocence was ripped away.”
“They took me away. Everything felt weird. I put on a brave face. It was going to be my first ever surgery, and it was a BIG one. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. Watching my mother accept that her oldest son was going to have his leg cut off was heart-breaking for me.”
“We had absolutely no idea what was going on. His behavior was changing. He’d been in daycare since he was 12 weeks old and LOVED his school. Now he’d cling to us at drop off and require 15 hugs before we could – with him still screaming and crying- finally leave him. We assumed he was ‘going through a phase.’ I felt like we were ‘losing’ him.”
“The minutes creep by so slowly. You want to rush past the stage of night feedings, teething, and being so needed all the time. Then, before you know it, their childhood is slipping right through your fingers.”
“I raced to the front porch, paralyzed. Do I swing open the door and just run in? Do I call the cops? As I stood with my hand up in the knocking position, the door opened.”
“I hadn’t laid eyes on him for at least 10 minutes — or had it been 20? Immediately, everything around me swirled and blurred. The only thing in focus was the red flag flapping violently above the lifeguard station. The white-capped waves were deafening. Horrible scenarios flooded my mind.”
“I didn’t care what school I went to as long as I could get away from home. I later dropped out of high school and started working the night shift at a restaurant. Weeks later, my school counselor called. ‘If I work something out with you, would you agree to come back?’ It was my second chance at life.”
“I felt guilty. I felt worthless. I felt shattered. I skipped meals, lost my friends. I blamed myself for everything that happened. Then, one day I woke up and stopped feeling sorry for myself.”
“We met at a run-down cafe and I asked all the questions that burned inside me. I was sitting directly across from her. This time, she couldn’t ignore me. I secretly hoped my suspicions were wrong, but the realistic side of me always said, ‘April, why else would she have stayed away?'”
“In my heart, I am supposed to be blonde. I wear fake lashes. I own roughly 47 different shades of lipstick, so clearly, I care about the way I look. But here’s the thing. Nobody is going to stand up at the front of the church at your funeral and talk about your looks.”
