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I hate to use the term “acting out,” so I’ll say that my 3-year-old daughter is expressing a brand-new feeling that she doesn’t know how to articulate: heartbreak. And maybe even desperation. It’s understandable. She wants a mother.
This is just the latest development in what’s been a long, and often hard, story for our family. Nine days after Cydney was born, her mom—my fiancee—was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. After nine months of putting up a fight, Timile passed away Dec. 9, 2011, at 25 years of age, just one day after our five-year anniversary.
It was a natural time to embark upon a grief process and help my daughter do the same. Instead I had to endure months of custody hearings in the states of New York and Virginia, forced to prove that I was Cydney’s father because Timile’s parents fought for her custody.
But since April 3, 2012, my daughter has been back with me, and honestly, it’s been nothing less than wonderful.
Except when I have to see her like this.
She’s obsessed with finding a mom.
Last year Cydney became very close to a female friend of mine. Because life happens and people grow apart, my friend and I met up one last time for what all the adults in the room understood was the “exit interview.”
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