She came home as if it were any other week. The summer was hot, the days were long, and she was looking ahead to four years of high school.
Before everything crashed down.
Her stepmom had found it. The journal locking up the words that she could not say aloud.
“Is what you wrote down true?”
“Yeah, it is true.”
Then suddenly the police were there and he was admitting to everything and they took him away and then he was gone.
There was so much to feel but nowhere to turn. Fear, relief, sorrow, and guilt all bombarded her. She did not tell anyone, not at first. It was two years before she could explain to even her closest friends.
“I was holding onto the deepest darkest secret,” senior Anika Brown revealed. Four years ago her father was arrested before her eyes.
Brown is the not the only student who has experienced this reality.
His father had been in and out of his life for years before finally leaving for good. It hurt at first, but eventually he learned to live with his parents’ mistakes.
Of course he wanted something else, for his father and mother to step up, to not have to bounce around to relatives.
He does not remember the sound of his father’s voice, and would not recognize his face.
“I used to love him, but I’ve lost all respect,” junior Chance Owens said. He has since moved on from the pain of his parents’ problems.
Both of Owens’ parents have been in and out of prison his entire life. The state will not allow him to see either of his parents anymore.
It can be easy to brush aside these stories when they are someone else’s, but then it all happened to me.
I was twelve when I had to travel an hour north to see my father. I could not hug him, could not touch him. His voice sounded so wrong over the phone when his face was so clearly before me.
There was more than a sheet of glass between us.
The fear was eating me alive. I just knew that someone would try to take my brother and I away from our father, so we hid his life behind bars for as long as we could.
“What does your father do?” people would ask.
“He works. He fishes. He takes us to the movies.”
Anything to deflect attention away from it all.
My dad wrote me letters but I could not find the words to write back.
It seemed impossible to talk about, not that we ever wanted to. It was difficult knowing that our own parent – someone who was supposed to be our role model, supposed to protect us, be there for us at every step of the way – had failed.
My father was in jail for six months. Owens and Brown’s parents have been incarcerated for years.
There was never a typical American childhood for us. And yet here we are, the same as other students.
The same as you.
How many others are out there, alone in their struggle? Any face you pass in the hallway could be that of someone who has not seen one of their parents in years, or someone who does not feel safe in their own home.
Brown, Owens, and I all felt better not revealing our stories in the beginning. Others might too, but that does not make their pain any less real.
We have to let them know that they are not alone. Not just those of us who have similar experiences, but complete strangers. You don’t have to know what another person is going through to make them laugh for what could be the first time in months, to give them a reason to smile, to give them hope for days to come.
With death and destruction on the news every day, we could all stand to show more compassion.
“Everyone goes through good times and hard times,” Brown said. And none of us, despite keeping our troubles to ourselves, should have to go through it alone.
“Every day is a challenge,” Owens said. “It’s sad at points but at other times I just know that it is what it is there’s nothing that I can do about it so I just move on.”
Most of us strive to be happy and overcome our hardships, but we should aim to help others on their own journeys to happiness as well.
Say hello in the hallways. Invite a stranger over for lunch. Befriend someone you have never spoken to. By performing these small acts, we can make sure that no one has to feel alone anymore.