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God's GIft


24 Mar, 2016 05:46 AM

Let's start this story out with a not so sad quote. "I will not say, do not cry. For not all tears are of an evil." -Gandalf the White.

Okay, here we go... I was six years old at the time. I had a good life, outside my house. I had friends, I had talents, I was liked. I would go to school, ready to learn, go to recess, see my friends at lunch. It was the most exciting thing. The only down side was going home. I had to ride the bus. It wasn't a long ride, I was the second stop. The bad part, was walking up the front steps. I would debate on whether to go in, or stay out there. My parents wouldn't notice anyways. I ended up walking inside. I slowly turned the handle, making as little noise as possible out of fear that I might wake someone up, or worse, draw attention to myself. Walking though the door, on the tip of my toes. As soon as I set my backpack down on the front step, there he was. Dad was passed out on the couch, bottle of some alcoholic beverage in his had. Nothing had changed. I quickly made my way into the kitchen to grab a snack, trying to get to my room. Before I made it out of the pantry, I heard crying. No doubt it was mom. I stuck my head around the corner, watching as mom as she folded laundry and sobbed. Before I was able to back away, she caught a glimpse of me. When she saw me, I knew I had to go in. I reluctantly walked in her room and gave her a hug. I loved mom, but this wasn't unusual. Everyday, dad would either be passed out on the couch, passed out on the floor, or screaming at mom. I would sneak down stairs, waiting for the screaming or crying to stop, then I would talk to mom. She would ask about my day, I would recollect the fun I had, then I would run back down stairs, purposely avoiding dad. He was never in a good mood. On the rare occasion he is, it usually means he just go back from "a late night at the office." Lip stick smudges on his neck, the smell of smoke and perfume wafting from his clothes. I was too young to understand a lot of it, but the late nights and the drinking, I got. I found out before mom. And when daddy found out I knew, he would hit me and tell me if I told mom he would lock me up for a long time. I never told her, but she would find out, and I would be the one to get in trouble, by mom for not telling her, and my dad for "telling her." I would spend nights in the unfinished section of the basement, locked away, no bed. Just a thing blanket and a sweatshirt. I would sit there, crying, prying to God to help me.

By the time I was 16, I understood every little detail. I knew why dad left, why mom was sad. I stopped comforting her after a while. She would sit there day on end, expressionless. I never came home anyways, I spent nights at friends houses, in hotels. Whenever I did, I stayed in my room. Those nights were the nights I bawled. One day, I was invited to a party. I never went to parties, but all my friends went, so why wouldn't I? I never planned to eat or drink, just show up for a little bit. But when a cute boy handed me a cup, I couldn't resist. I drank more than I could handle. Next thing I knew, I was in the doctor's office getting an ultrasound. 9 months later, I was sitting in the hospital bed holding my little baby boy. At night, I tried my hardest, but I would not stop crying. For hours tears streamed from my eyes. I cried to God to help me. To answer my prayer. I was lost and scared and I had no where to run.

As I grew older, I watched my baby boy grow older and older, and I finally realized that my prayers to God had finally been answered. I was given this beautiful baby boy to raise my way. It didn't have to end up the same way as my childhood. I was given a friend, a life long companion. One day, when I had grown old, I pulled my son to my bed side and I told him that God is there. He would help him when he is in need. It might not be right then and there. I told him that he helped me, and that he gave me my son. I told him that God would never give up on him. And on that day, I saw my son's eyes open. They saw what I saw. And what I had regretted before, I didn't give a second thought. I was where I was now, and I would not change it for the world.

Tags: Sad, Tears, Love, Family, God, Son
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R Antony says:
12 May, 2016 03:45 PM


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Elanore Allard says:
07 Jun, 2016 09:56 AM


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Alanna says:
03 Oct, 2016 12:17 AM

It was so sad but a great story i felt tears falling from my face while i was reading this amazing story. :) Keep up the Great Work.

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