I thought something weird was going on. My father started only taking my sister with him to visit on our monthly visits, leaving me home with my mom bored and lonely. I was confused at first, I didn't understand why I was being left behind so I repeatedly asked my sister to ask our father if I could go with him the next visit, the answer was always no. Soon after that I would hear my mom yelling on the phone with him, I knew it was him because she was spitting his name. The constant yelling happened only over the phone, whenever he came to pick up my sister my mom wouldn't say anything to him. She wouldn't even greet him, just tell my sister goodbye and watch her walk out the house to go with him. Those were sad days, I was lonely and frustrated. Frustrated that he wasn't taking me with him since I loved him more then my sister did, when we were a lot younger he'd have to force her to get in the car when he came to pick us up to visit him whereas I eagerly jumped in the car and watched from the window the scene that always played out with my sister. I was angry that he was just ignoring me like this but most of all I was sad. I didn't know what I'd done to make him angry with me or what I did to make him stop taking me, I was sorry for whatever I had done but I couldn't think of anything I did to make him angry. One day, probably a month or two of the yelling and neglecting, after one particularly loud phone call with him my mom cried, she didn't cry loudly and I only saw it because I'd gotten so lonely I just wanted to be around her. She was crying and sniffling quietly but I could tell it was an angry cry, she was upset about something; very upset. I crawled onto the bed and plopped down next to her with a big smile hoping it'd help make her feel better. Being the curious child I was I asked her what was wrong. She told me it was something that my father had done, so I asked what he did. My mother looked at me and then started crying harder, I was getting really worried by that point so the smile plastered on my face was a very strained on. My voice betrayed my expression when I again asked what was wrong and why they fought so much. She asked me with tears still rolling down her cheek if I really wanted to know, I said yes and waited for her to speak again. “He's not your father, he's your sister's father but not yours.” As soon as the words left her lips the smile left mine, I had no idea what she was talking about and was so confused for a minute until she spoke again. “You're father's dead. He's been dead for years” The confusion was gone, filled with a empty feeling in my chest and shock. Two bombs had just been dropped on me, the man I loved and thought was my father for eleven years of my life wasn't my real father....and my real father was dead. At that moment I realized I had no father. I asked through my shock “Is that why he stopped taking me for visits?” I hoped I was wrong, I wanted to be wrong so badly and have my mom tell me that I was wrong and he was going to start taking me on the visits I had cherished so much again. She didn't. I was right. Suddenly it felt like someone had dropped cement bricks on my chest, I couldn't breath. I started crying without a sound. My mom quickly wrapped me up in a hug and repeatedly said sorry over and over again. I asked if the man I'd thought was my father would ever let me visit him again and my mom said “Probably not” I loved him, I loved him so much and he just stopped loving me, so abruptly I'd been taken from my nice warm loving life and thrown into a cold unforgiving life of lies.