Sample Essay On Fatherless Children

Wow! The Obama girls, what I would notgive to be one of those girls. No, not for eitherthe position or for the fame, but because I could only dream of what it would be like to have a father like theirs. A father who’s caring, protective and engaged. While me, on the other hand can only dream of that feeling of having a father figure. You see, my dad left home when I was 10 and while I have a few memories, I do not really recall much about him. It was not as if he lived in another state far away, but he was a neighboring stranger. We lived in the same city, attended the same churches, knew all the same people and yet he was a bigger stranger compared to the others who we did not even know. I have four other siblings; my mom was left to raise the five of us alone. My parents could never be around each other without arguing and calling each other bad names. I always wondered why they were so angry with each other all the time. I would often wonder if them having us was the reason that they seem to have hated each other so much. All I know is that I wanted it to stop, but I still did not want my dad to completely walk away from our lives.
Growing up without a father for us was much harder than I can say. My siblings and I often found ourselves alone and independent of our everyday needs. Yeah, mom gave us food to eat, a place to stay, and clothes to put on our backs, but she felt obligated to do that. We were often told by our mom, that it was our fault she never had anything of value or worth. I can still remember hearing her voice when she would say those things to us and I still feel the goose bumps rising on my skin asking God fora new and better mom. I often wondered if that was the reason why I father got angry with her. She would say bad things to us. When people talk about single mom raising the children my heart sinks because I wonder if their experience of being in the home of a single mom was like ours.
I felt the worst for my oldest sister, because she had to play the role of being mom to the rest of us. She had to cook clean and see about us as if she had given birth to us. It was never fair but she took it all in stride. I remember seeing her cry quite often swearing under her breath to leave our home and never to return. I would never say anything because I felt the same way. I cannot say if my father had stayed what might have been different in our house. But the main memory I have is that our house, was nevera home. Being disciplined for every little thing, and in discipline I mean being beat with whatever she could find to hit us. Whether it was a belt, a stick, a cord, a rope or even her fist; it was line up and take your turn. Many days I wondered if my father had been there, would we have experienced such torture. Is it not that the father supposed to protect his children from such evil and cruel deeds? What kind of father abandons his children and leaves them in such distress? I have pondered that question for years and while I have read the experts’ opinions and I have listened to many talk showswhich debate whether to agree or disagree on this topic I am left with the conclusion that there is no one answer.
The Bible says, “but Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14) All I can really say is that I feel closer to God every day because we were children who suffered. We suffered physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. My oldest sister, died at the age of 42 broken in every aspect of life. I do not know if she ever sought counseling to help her heal but I know that she died with a broken heart. She had the heart of a child in a woman’s body, which still longed to know the meaning of a father’s love. If truth be told, the same could be said about all of us even as adults, still longing for the intimacy of a father’s love. I thank God that I was able to find that love through the fathers of my friends and men that God put in my path throughout my life.
When I look around I see so many young people and adults alike in search of love. I cannot help but wonder if they grew up fatherless like my siblings and I did. A father, well at least what I think a father should be, because my experience of having a father growing up in my household is foreign to me. Still ,I pray every day that while I did not grow up with the love of a father and still have the desire to know what it truly feels like to be loved by my father I am grateful overwhelming love the Lord has allowed me to experience. I know I have been blessed with love, but unlike me I know there are many who will never know the true meaning of what it feels like to be truly loved in a way that is healthy and wholesome.