My dad left us when I was around 6 years old. I remember waking up one morning and finding a note taped to the inside of our front door, it was from him. I don’t recall what was written, just that I gave it to my mom to read. I wasn’t sad or upset that he had left. There was never a close connection between us and to be honest I don’t think I can conjure up even one positive memory about him. His exiting our life was probably for the best in my opinion. Not having a dad was hard, but having a malicious dad would have been far worse. My mom worked very hard to pick up the slack by herself. She pulled 8 hours in an office every day and attended college classes at night. She continually strove to better our lives. Though financially we must have been very tight for a long time, I can’t recall ever feeling poor. She sacrificed a lot to make sure I had what I needed (and more).