I may have been around kindergarden age, but I will never forget the day my father left us. I remember him getting ready to leave for good. I remember my mom holding on to him and pleading for him not to leave. I remember me doing the same. I remeber him trying to pull away from us. I still remember it, it happened in my mom's bedroom, standing in front of that gawd-awful olive green '70 clothes hamper.
I didn't forget that day father? Did you?