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My Dad, My First Love, My First Heartbreak

When I was a little girl, I remember my father once gave my mother a bouquet of roses in the middle of their heated argument, I remember laughing at them, thinking everything was fine, everything was perfect. I remember giving my father letters and gifts every father’s day. I remember him cooking our meals. I remember riding at the back of his motorcycle, we’d stroll around the city along with my sister. I remember a lot of things, we had a lot of memories, happy, sad, but above all these memories I treasure, the most painful would be when he was teaching me how to ride a bicycle. He would force me to ride a bicycle without training wheels, he would hold the back of the bicycle so that he could catch me if I fall, he’d push me for a long time until he’d finally let go and I could feel the bicycle getting lighter and lighter, and that’s how I know that he’s gone and I was alone. It was painful because that is how it felt like when he and my mom separated. He said that he’d be there to catch us, he said that even if my mom, my sister and I do not live with him anymore, he’d visit us all the time. And he did, he visited thrice a week, till it became weekly, then monthly, and suddenly he stopped visiting. He finally let go and I could feel my heart getting heavier and heavier, and that's when I knew I was alone.

A father is every girl’s first love. My father was mine, but how often does a father become the first heartbreak as well? My father was definitely my first heartbreak. When he and my mother separated, I was deeply wounded, I was heart broken. I could not believe that he could do such thing to my mother. I could not believe that he could do such thing to my sister and I. I despised him. I have bottled up all that I felt inside- the anger, the sadness, everything. I used to see him as this great guy, a role model. But not anymore. For me, he is now just an example of a guy that I must avoid. My father broke my heart before any man could. Because of him, I got scared of trusting people, I am afraid to feel the same pain all over again, I am afraid to give my heart away.

I know that I keep talking about him in the past, the reason is because, he is alive, but everything else is just a memory. All those things that I remember, it is just that, a memory. We do not spend time anymore, he does not cook for us anymore, he isn’t there when I need him. But of course, even after everything, even after the pain he has caused and is still causing us, he is still my father and I love him.