He's Still My Dad

by Anonymous

When my dad was arrested in the early 2010s, our entire world flipped upside down. It wasn’t just about losing a father figure—it was about losing stability, comfort, and a sense of normal.

My mom, already working full-time, had to pick up a second job just to make ends meet. Even then, we had to move into a smaller house, and part of that meant saying goodbye to four of our dogs—four souls that were just as much family as any of us. I didn’t realize it then, but that loss hit harder than I was ready to feel.

There were nights when I’d walk into the kitchen and catch my mom crying at the table, doing her best to keep it all from falling apart. My brother and I didn’t understand all the details, but we felt the tension in the air. We felt the silence. We felt the absence.

That chapter in our lives was full of confusion, anger, and heartbreak—but it also taught me what strength really looks like. My mom never gave up. She never let the weight break her. And our family? We may have been knocked down, but we stood back up, together.

Even though my dad was gone, he was still my dad. That part never changed.