Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if this didn’t happen. I will always know that it had to have happened for a reason, and whatever the reason is will come clear to me some day. But for now I have so many questions. How did DCYF believe her word over my father's? How could they be so cruel?
     

I wish I could sit down with my babysitter and find out why she did this to me and how she had the nerve to call DCYF and blame it on my father. I wish I could tell her how hard my father had to fight to get me back. I wish I could tell her how much my dad actually cares how he went to anger management, how he went to parenting classes, counseling, and several court dates. I wish I could show her he’s a very strong man, especially because he only got visits with me once a week for an hour at a time, and he had to miss 11 visits because of me being sick or the foster parents being sick or car issues. I wish I could show her how strong we are together. 
        

Memories are like a painting. Up close it looks like a bunch of scattered dots, but standing back it looks like a masterpiece. My memories of my abuse are no different.
       

I remember the day I was taken away. I don’t remember being in the foster home. I remember my cry when I was taken. It was a strong, powerful cry. I don’t remember the pain when I was being beaten. I do remember how I felt when I found out. I don’t remember it happening. I remember being told what had happened, and I remember thinking why did this have to happen. I remember thinking there has to be some kind of explanation for this, because everything happens for reason. I remember that it’s no one’s fault but the women who did this. I don’t remember what the foster homes look like, and I don’t remember being moved back and forth between homes. I do remember the car that I was taken away in was black. I don’t remember any of the names of my foster families. I do remember all I wanted to do was go home. I remember waiting there patiently for my father to show up. I don’t remember the visits with my father. I remember feeling devastated. I remember. 
        

I hope I always remember everything happens for a reason. This event proved to me how much my dad actually cares about me and loves me. He is a single father, for now 18 years. He was willing to do whatever it took to get his little girl back. He fought and fought. The caseworker who didn’t like him finally gave in and he made it through. The court system finally gave me back.
       

 He could have just given up on me, but he didn’t. He kept fighting. He did everything in his power to get me back, and I’m so glad. He raised me alone and struggled everyday to make me happy and he still does--I am the only one he has. He is the best father anyone could have, even though he makes me mad sometimes I know he will always love and care about me. I have a lot of respect for my father, especially because my mother got away without paying child support. Throughout this whole thing I really understand how much my father adores me and how much he wanted me to be a part of his life. He is the best father ever and the strongest person I know. He is my superhero.
     

I wish I could tell her that.