The End of a Fairytale

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a memory of my step-father.

The End of A Fairy Tale

It was a hot summer day in the Middle East. The weather outside was simply perfect; a sunny day with a cool breeze that calms down the heat of the sun on your skin. My mother came back from work as usual, but it was not like every other day. Today was different. She entered the door with a smile that lights up any darkness. She gave me and my younger brother a hug and said, “ There is someone you guys need to meet.” I looked at my mother with confusion, yet excitement. I was only seven years old, thus, I did not understand many things. Seeing the smile on my mother's face, indicated that “somebody” was important. An hour later, we left the house to go to a restaurant where we saw a man. He was tall, slim built, with a head full of black hair, and he had a genuine smile. My mother opened her mouth

saying, “ Kids, this is Sirhan.” a man who she fell in love with.

He looked at us with a smile and said, ” Hey!” with so much energy, and handed me and my brother candy. Being the stubborn seven year old girl, I did not reply or take his candy. It took two years for him and my mother to get married, but only one year for him to get close to me and my brother.

I never had a father figure in my life. My mother and father got divorced when I was four years old, so my mother raised me and my younger brother all by herself. Therefore, having someone new enter my life and take over a role that was always occupied by my mother was something I did not know how to handle. But he made it easy. He loved me and my brother as if we were his own. He played with us, told us stories, and always made sure he put us first. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I had a father; I felt normal. I did not want to change anything about our life. My mother stopped working and became a stay at home mother. My stepfather was a business man. He always had to travel from place to place. After a week or two, he would come back with toys, candy, and all types of gifts. I remember the smile on his face when he saw us. Sometimes, my brother and I would wait for him in front of the door for hours; we even stayed past our bed time just to see him. When he opened the door, we jumped on him, yelling his name, and crying at the same time. He would hold us so close and kiss our foreheads and say,

“ You guys shouldn't cry. I got gifts for you.” Every time he came back it was a holiday in my house.

Every morning before school, my stepfather or my mother would get up to make my breakfast and send me off to school. When it was his turn, he would always tell me funny jokes about animals and stories about flying horses. I was only seven and I believed everything he said.

He would tell me, “ There is a land far, far away from here , where horses can fly and talk. They are magical horses and the only ones that get to see them are good kids.”

I asked with curiosity, “ Have you seen them?”

He replied yes, “We'll all go when you're good to your mother and brother.” I could not stop smiling that whole day. I did all of my chores . I even began cooking at the age of seven just so I can see the magical horses that can fly. Every time I asked him when can we see the horses he would smile and say “soon”

A year passed and my mother had my youngest brother, now we were five members, a perfect family and I had another brother to look after. A couple of months later, I ended up getting sick. I remember I could not open my eyes for a whole week I had to stay home. My stepfather canceled his plans to travel and stayed home with the family. My mother was occupied with my newborn brother , so my stepfather took care of me. He would always tell me stories about the magical horses. The queen horse was named Jebraka. She was a regular horse that became magical because she listened to her mother, and she was also a good student. I did everything, just so I can become like that magical horse my stepfather told me about.

After youngest brother was a year, my stepfather ended up leaving for work. He gave me and my brothers a long hug, kissed our foreheads, and said, “ You guys be good, I'll bring you lots of gifts and candy.” I do not know why, but that day did not feel like every other time he left. There was something heavy on my chest, and his farewell seemed like a goodbye. Two days after that, my real father showed up. While I was playing outside, he decided to approach me. All I saw was a tall and dark man whom I had never seen. I ran home, scared and terrified and hid under my grandmother's bed. My mother explained to me that he was my father. I refused to believe her, so I called him a monster and ran away to the roof. I hid there for hours, thinking to myself that he was not my father; I only had one father even though I did not have his last name. He was still the only father I knew, and I refused to replace him with someone whom I had just met.

I ended up coming down from the roof and I had a long conversation with my real father. He tried to explain to an eight year old that he loved her. All I thought about that time was how, when, and where did that love come from. I closed myself from the world and all the emotions that came with it. My real father and my grandmother had a good relationships. So he decided to stay in my grandmother's house for couple of days.

A week later, I was at my grandmother, with my real father. They were having a conversation and I was there cleaning up the living room with my youngest aunt. We received a phone call. My mother answered from the bedroom. All I heard was her crying, so I ran as fast as possible.

All I saw was her, sitting on the floor covering her face with her hands. I immediately began to cry ,I did not know why but my heart sunk when I saw the tears in her eyes. I knew it was something terrible. My grandmother, screamed behind me,


My mother replied, ”He died” I knew exactly who she meant. I ran up the stairs to my little corner on the roof and cried. My father came after me, rather than him comforting me he slapped me and

said, “Why are you crying for him?”

I replied with anger, “ HE WAS MY FATHER!” and ran away.

We found out that my stepfather had a heart attack. I never knew he had heart problems, he was in shape and very healthy.

As a result, me and my real father never talked again. Even a simple greeting became awkward, as if we were two strangers who never met one another. He walked his own path and I did the same. When he left the house I heard that he traveled to Holland, got married, and his living his life as if we did not exist. He was a chapter in my life that got burned and turned into ashes. Nobody has the ability to put ashes together and turn it back into paper. That was when I realized that all of my memories with my stepfather, were going to be the only memory I had of a true father.

My stepfather never came back to show me that fairy tale land where the magical horses lived. He was gone after only four years of being with us. His farewell was a goodbye, a goodbye that I will never forget. A week later, we had the funeral at my stepfather's parents house.

I stayed home because I did not want to face reality. I stayed up all night thinking; what if I stopped him from leaving,would he still be alive? But than I remembered what he told me. When a family member died.

He said, “ That we're all alive for a reason and we die for a reason, so when people died it's because god takes those who he loves the most away from earth and shows them paradise.”

I told my mother the same exact words, so she hugged me and stopped crying after the funeral. I realized that my stepfather, took a place in my heart that nobody else will ever replace. He was my hero, my friend, and most important my dad (May his soul rest in peace).

Submitted: January 12, 2014

© Copyright 2022 sanora. All rights reserved.

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