I Found Out My Father Is Homeless

Hi everyone! My name's Beatrice. If you asked me what's your strongest childhood memory, I'd answer right away. My parents' never-ending fights. They were yelling at each other all the time. Even when I was little, I could see that they hated each other's guts. Eventually, they decided to get a divorce. Even though I was only 7 at the time, I was so happy when I found out. I remember something funny. I was so used to their fighting that when mom said, Beatrice, your dad won't be living here with us. I asked her, so will you be fighting over the phone? Even after the divorce, they still had to deal with each other because of me. My dad really loved me. He'd pick me up every Saturday morning and bring me back Sunday night. My mom had to stop working after she had me. After the divorce, she looked for a job but couldn't find one. So we had to rely on the money we got from my dad. My dad really loved me. He composed music for commercials. I really loved music and sometimes he would take me to his friend's concerts. At one of those concerts, I saw a ukulele for the first time. Because it was so small, I thought it was a special guitar for kids. I asked him, Dad, will you get me a kiddie guitar? My dad laughed so hard. He got me the ukulele after the concert. My dad could play many instruments. He started to teach me how to play the ukulele. Around that time, my mom got a new boyfriend. The guy was staying with us often and for some reason, my mom wanted me to call him dad. That weekend, I told my father about it. He got really upset. He called up my mom. He said, why are you forcing Beatrice to call someone she doesn't even know dad? If that man comes to your house again, I'm not bringing her back. They had a huge fight over the phone. When my dad dropped me off at home on Sunday, she said, don't you dare threaten me again or this will be the last time you see Beatrice. After that, they had an even bigger fight. Dad came to my room before leaving. He had a phone he only used for work. He gave it to me. He said, honey, if that man stays here again, please call me. Then he gave me a kiss and left. Normally, my dad would call me every evening. The next evening, he didn't call, so I called him. His phone kept ringing, but he didn't pick up. I called him again the next day. This time his phone was off. I told my mom about it because I was worried, but she didn't care. She got mad when she found out that my dad gave me a phone and took it away. That Saturday, I woke up early as always and waited for my dad to arrive. He hadn't called me all week, but I was sure he would come, but he didn't. We waited until noon. Finally, my mom got worried too. His phone is off. I'll go over to his house, she said, and left. When she came back, she said, I rang the bell, but no one opened the door. Unfortunately, after that day, we didn't hear from my father again. If something horrible had happened to him, we would have found out. It seemed like my dad had disappeared on purpose. Since we stopped getting money from him, my mom started looking for work again. Thankfully, she was able to find a job at a supermarket. However, the money she was making wasn't even enough for the rent. We had to move to a smaller house. After that, things just kept getting worse. We were moving all the time. There were times when we got evicted because we couldn't pay rent. My mom wasn't in a good place mentally. When she'd lose her job, we would move in with my aunt's family for a while. Yes, our life was really hard, but I didn't really care about that. All I worried about was my dad. I missed him a lot. Some nights, I'd fall asleep holding my kiddie guitar, which reminded me of him. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mom started talking to a man she met online. But she couldn't meet him because he lived in another city. One day, she told me, Brett wants us to move in with him. What do you say? This meant that we would be moving to another city and I would have to change schools, but I still said yes. Because after all these years, there was finally someone in my mom's life and Brett seemed like a really nice guy. Moving in with Brett turned out to be the best decision we ever made. For the first time in my life, I finally felt at peace. Brett was a lawyer and he wanted me to study law because he thought I could become successful at it. This seemed like a good idea to me. I decided I should start preparing for college. I thought I should do some volunteering so I could put it on my application. Through my school, I found that I could volunteer at a soup kitchen. They sent me to a soup kitchen that needed help. I began going there twice a week. You know, usually it's the homeless who eat at soup kitchens. In the city where I used to live, there were many homeless people. I would cross to the other side of the street every time I saw a homeless person because they smelled really bad. However, working at the soup kitchen made me see things differently. Sure, they still smelled bad, but they were human beings just like the rest of us and for most of them, living on the street wasn't a choice. After a while, I got to know a lot of homeless people. Some of them were real characters. They made me laugh a lot. I was looking forward to going to work each day. One evening on my way to the shelter, I saw a man lying down on a bench. He wasn't like the other homeless people I knew. He looked really, really bad. I nudged him. He looked up at me. I can take you somewhere where you can eat, I said. Before he could answer, he put his head down again. He closed his eyes. I repeated what I just said, but he didn't respond. I gave him whatever change I had and kept walking. The following day, I saw the same man again. This time he was sitting. He had a blank look in his eyes. I sat next to him. He didn't look at me. I asked, are you hungry? He didn't respond. I stood up. I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up. Please come with me. We'll go somewhere where you can eat, I said. He stood up without saying anything. We started walking together. I was used to the way homeless people smelled, but this guy was really bad. Also, his face was so dirty you couldn't see what he looked like. It was like he was wearing a mask made out of mud with just two holes for the eyes. When we got to the soup kitchen, I took him to the bathroom. You need to wash your hands. You can't eat like this, I told him. He still didn't react. I went in with him. I turned on the water. I washed his hands with soap. Then I lathered his face for a really long time. Then I rinsed it with water. When he looked up, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was my father. Dad! I screamed and hugged him. He didn't respond. Dad, it's me, Beatrice, your daughter, Beatrice! I was screaming. I finally found my dad, but he didn't seem to recognize me. He was just staring at his face in the mirror. That was probably because he was seeing his own face for the first time in years. We had a volunteer at the shelter named Matthew. I thought he could help me because he was homeless too. When I told my story to Matthew, he was really surprised. I've seen your dad around for years. He never talks to anyone. He's always been this way. He probably has a mental illness, he said. I couldn't take him home in this condition. Matthew lived in an abandoned building with a few other people. I asked, can my dad stay with you for a while? I'm going to look for a way to take him to a doctor. He nodded. He promised me he'd look after my dad. That night when I came home, I told my mom and Brett that I found my father. My mom couldn't believe what she was hearing. She said, are you sure? Maybe it's just someone who looks like him. I said, I thought about that too. That's why I'm going to do a little test tomorrow. Brett said, I can help you find a doctor. And I was so moved that I hugged him. I told you he was a really nice person. The next day, I went to where Matthew lived. My dad was sitting outside staring blankly into space. I took out my ukulele. Yes, that was the test. If it was really my father, I thought he'd definitely react to the ukulele. But he didn't even look at me. I started playing, trying to remember some of the chords he had taught me. After a little while, he reached over. He touched the ukulele and said, kitty guitar. I looked at his face. He looked at me. Kitty guitar, he repeated. I embraced him and began to cry. My dad kept saying, kitty guitar, kitty guitar, as if he was desperately holding on to something he had trouble remembering. I thought my dad was mentally ill. But when we went to the hospital, it turned out that I was wrong. The doctor gave my dad a thorough examination. He did a lot of tests. Finally, he gave us a diagnosis. According to the doctor, my dad had suffered a severe concussion. That means he hit his head really hard. He was probably involved in a car accident. As a result, he had what's known as a traumatic brain injury. If the impact on the head is too severe, there might be permanent damage that affects cognitive abilities. That was why my dad was like this. The concussion caused some kind of mental defect. The worst part is that it can't be treated. We don't know how my dad ended up in a different city. My theory is that after leaving our house, he was hit by a car. The driver must have put him in his car to take him to a hospital, but then changed his mind and brought him somewhere he wouldn't be recognized by anyone, which is the city we now live in. I thought my dad had left us, but he'd been living here all this time. Thanks to Brett, we moved my dad into an assisted living facility. I go to visit him every day. I tell him about everything that has happened over the years. I don't know how much of it he understands, but I still really enjoy spending time with my dad. I also play the ukulele for him. He sings along, saying, kitty guitar, kitty guitar.