Life went on much to my surprise after papa left. Mama wasn’t any more attentive than she had been when papa was around. She just left me to myself. I was barely eight years old but I did almost everything myself.
         We fell into a mindless routine that involved waking up everyday and going to school and work respectively. After school I would go to her workplace and wait until 5pm so we could go home together. She hardly spoke to me. We didn’t talk about papa. I would ask but she was always short tempered and tired. It was miserable for me. I missed papa very much.
        Then after about three weeks, I got papa’s letter. I was so thrilled. Mama got it from the mail. He said he was doing okay and he loved me and missed me very much. I hugged papa’s letter to my heart and cried myself to sleep. I just wanted my papa.
      During the weekends mama and I would stay home. I would go close to her, try to hug her but she resented it. I didn’t understand what I had done to make mama so angry. She provided everything I needed. I was never hungry or lacking food but I was starved of love and affection. My friends at school talked nonstop about how cool their mums were and when I told them my dad was my best friend, they thought I was weird. I just didn’t understand what was wrong.
         I wrote to my papa every time. I  couldn’t give it to mama because I was scared she would not send it or be angry I wrote to him constantly so I asked Mrs. Green, my friend, Janet’s mum. She worked at the post office and she didn’t complain. I got papa’s letter twice a month. He said he couldn’t write often because he was always busy but he loved me very much. I didn’t tell him about mama. I didn’t want them to fight again.
      Then the summer after I turned 10, mama got a call. My papa was all shades of amazing. He called as often as he could but he couldn’t keep his last promise. He died in war. I cried an ocean of tears. It just wasn’t fair. I had lost the only person in the world who really loved me.
       Mama threw herself more into her work and there was no one to talk to, no one to write to and no letter to wait eagerly for. My hero was gone forever. It was a lonely existence for me. After awhile mama became sick. She had psychological issues and she needed to get help so she took me to my grandparents. I think mama blamed herself for papa’s death.
         I had never met my grandparents. I was scared. They were mama’s parents. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I also didn’t have a choice. Mama was sending me off. It couldn’t get any worse anyway or could it?