“Daddy.” My protector. My savior. He convinced my mother to take her medication and she did. For him. She loved him. He made us a family and during those dark moments when my mother’s illness threatened to rip us apart, he held me. Like in the hospital, when I couldn’t sleep, terrified of the first wave of nightmares, he lay with me in bed and held me, whispering over and over again how much he loved me.
