My dad’s birthday. Twenty years ago today, I left home for Florida State. It was my dad’s 50th birthday and he said me moving out was the best gift I could give him. I think he was joking. After he moved me into the dorm, I saw my dad sobbing for the first time in my life as he ran to his truck, leaving his baby girl behind. The second time I heard him sobbing was a year later when he called me in Tallahassee Psychiatric Hospital where I had been admitted for suicide ideations.
Today is his birthday. My parent’s have changed their phone number, refusing to speak to me. Now I am the one sobbing. I can’t tell my daddy "happy birthday". Today was not a good day. I barely existed.
Happy Birthday, Dad… wherever you are.