Somethings Are Worth Fighting For

             Not a day goes by that I don't see my dad putting on an outfit that had reminded me of the forest.  I remember thinking my dad had become an explorer, someone who had searched for hidden objects or that he traveled the world because he was gone for so long.  I was wrong.

          When I was eight my dad left our house, and at that time I didn't think it would be for good. Every night, when my mom would tuck me in for bed, I would ask her, "When is dad coming home?"  I was always confused when mom would tear up at that question, but she always replied with the same answer every time, "soon."  That was a lie.

          I was eleven, and my mom had just went out to buy more food for the horses.  I was sitting in my room doodling in my sketch pad when I heard a knock on the door.  I had headed down to see who it was, I thought maybe mom had forgotten something but had locked herself out.  Once I opened the door I realized it wasn't my mom but a guy who had the same suit on that my dad wore when he left.  " Hey kid, where's your mum?" He had asked.  His voice sounded harsh, like he had been crying.  I told him where she went, and he handed me a note to give to her.  He told me I was the man of the house and to take care of my mom.  I didn't understand at the time, but when I heard my mom's sobs that night I figured it out.

          I was fourteen, I started doing the chores around the farm, and I would do the shopping for my mom. My mom had fallen very ill once she found out about dad.  A few weeks before my fifteenth birthday my mom collapsed.  

          The doctor told me she had fallen ill due to depression and might not make it unless we had money for the proper medical attention she needed, but the truth was, we barely had enough money to fed ourselves.

          At the age of fifteen, while other kids my age went out and had fun, I was jumping from job to job trying to get the money I needed to help my mom.  When we had meals I would give her both mine and her servings so she would have enough nutrients in her body.

          I remember the night I found the note. I was so frustrated and I was mad.  Mad that my dad left, mad that we had no money, and mad that I was the one taking care of mom when she should have been taking care of me.  I had asked myself why I was even doing this?  Mom would probably be better off and happier if she was dead, I know I would be happier if I was dead and finally able to rest.  As soon as that thought crossed my mind I got mad at myself for it.  I grabbed the nearest item and smashed it against the wall.  The vibration caused something to fall from behind a picture frame.  I picked up the letter and as I opened it. As I read it I cried.  Something I hadn't done in a while.

          After I read the note I thought of us as a family again.  Dad was there, mom was healthy, and I was the old me, a kid who had both his parents and was happy.

          And to this day I keep that note around just in case I ever doubt why I'm doing this, because somethings are worth fighting for.

          

             To:  My Son

                                                    I love you. No matter where I am I will always love you. If you are reading this tough, I guess that means something has happened to me and you are the man of the house.  Take care of your mother and let her know she is loved.

          I didn't join the army just to protect the country, I did it for you and your mother and for our friends and family.  I know I had a slim chance of coming back, but I did it anyway, because some things are worth fighting for.

                                                                                                                                          Lots of Love:

                                                                                                                                                                         Dad