A Stolen Emotion

I’ll never forget the very moment my heart was forever broken. His eyes are what I remember the most. They were soft and beautiful. Innocent as a baby deer. Cute little puffy cheeks. His voice still rings so clearly in my mind. He was only six years old. He was my son. She named him after my mother, Julia. His name was Julius. It seems like only yesterday that he muttered the words that would change both our lives forever. “I have two daddies.”

She lied to me for six years. They were celebrating his birthday thirty days from the one I knew of. It was “The Ultimate Lie.” He was supposed to be my blessing after the shooting. I needed his life to breathe life back into mine. He and I were so close. It was pure love. I had the opportunity to step up the plate and be a father. I kept him every weekend. I remember how that revelation broke me down. I remember crying like a baby that night. My faith and trust in people was totally diminished.

But I was the only father he knew. I knew I had no choice but to still raise him as my own. I begged her to keep me in his life. She had other plans. I still think about him all the time. I thought about him early this morning. He’s a grown man now. I wonder if she told him the truth? Does he think I deserted him? As a real man, I can’t help but wonder. I started watching Maury Povich obsessively. I still do. I can’t help it. I catch myself cheering for the responsible fathers and praying that the heartless lying women get exposed for all to see. Separating a child from their blood parent is such a ruthless and selfish act. It’s a stolen emotion. My father made a choice not to be in my life. That’s his loss. My goal was to never let my children go through what I did. God blessed me with one more, Greg Jr. He’s 27 now and he knows that his father loves him. I’ll always wonder whatever happened to Julius.

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