September 9th, 1882
My brother came home today from being out at sea. My mother's favorite kid. I have one sister and two brothers. A great big happy family is what they call it from the outside looking in. It could be worse my friend down the road has fourteen siblings, yes all the same father, and yes half of them are beaten and the other half are old enough to work and be away from him. The town does nothing because "the father" knows best so the kids must have deserved it is what they say. Disgusting.
We all spent the day in the kitchen cooking and getting ready for a big meal with my brother. My mother thinks he met a girl while away because he looks happy and healthy. She doesn't get that my brother could care less about getting married. He loves our family, supports us, and goes away for months at a time just to make ends meet for our family. It makes me miss my father. He was gone most of my life, but when he was home he was truly home. He would spend every day making sure my mother could relax, taking care of us kids, and playing with us all day every day. He cooked, he cleaned he tended to things inside and out. I see in my father what I would want in someone for myself, besides being away all the time, of course getting married is something I do not want so I don't have to worry about that.
I miss him. Writing I miss him, thinking I miss him just feels so empty and lonely. He has been dead for about three years now it seems impossible. I guess that is why I hate war, I hate the thought of fighting against other people that have families also. How could you kill another that you know nothing about? I will never understand my father for that part. I understand the comfort of being able to take care of your family, we lived more than comfortably when he was alive. He made great money. Just to be dead and gone with a torn family left behind.
Goodnight.