It was easy to be the forgotten child, when no one even remembered you were there in the first place.

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There were many photographs in frames inside father's study room. When my sister and I were little, we often wandered off into the room to find him, 'daddy', when he cooped long enough in that solitary place of his.

Sometimes 'daddy' even forgot to eat, and sleep, and about us, about having a life outside of his office.

He was a very busy man. We understood that. Because momma told us he held the second most eminent position in the ministry.

So sometimes when we thought that 'daddy' might forgotten that he need us, we sneaked into his room.

Sometimes we saw that he just stopped doing his work, and instead just staring. Into the many photographs around his office.

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He looks very lonely, and lost.

That was what we thought. So we tried to distract him as best as we could at that times. Because we were afraid that if he stared into the photographs too long, he might be gotten lost, and would not come back again. It was a frightening thought.

Daddy never got mad when we interrupted him, only momma did. Instead, he picked us up onto his lap and started with telling stories of the photographs.

There were many photos of daddy's family side, and I could not help but being transfixed to them. Because there was something strange in daddy's family photos.

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They all had pairs, even though the number of family members was odd.

Daddy's childhood photos started from when he was four. Grandma hold him in her lap, and he sat there with a small smile. Daddy said, grandpa was busy in a meeting with a group of people, so grandma took the time to shoot a photo by one of their lax company. Grandma held a relieved smile on her face.

There were photos of daddy reading some books or drawing but gradually there were a pair of similar toddlers accompanied him. There was one photo that showed daddy feeding a pair of 2-year-old twins milk bottles.

After that, the twins were often in the pictures where daddy always standing in the middle to avoid them from fighting each other. Then at age seven, with the twins at both his sides, he held a very feisty toddler who spat milk on him and cried with a very ugly face. The twins seemed to enjoy his distress, by the way of their bodies which doubled in laughing.

There were some photos that included daddy's two older brothers, but they were never with him. I wondered why? But from the look of the photographs, they seemed to be very friendly and lively.

At age eight, daddy yet hold another toddler, it was a girl who was tame and fell asleep peacefully in daddy's arms.

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When I grew older and started questioning about my father's childhood, my aunt told me something.

She actually understood where the feelings of his loneliness came from. Over time, she said, the family began to form pairs.

When they were little, the younger siblings did depending on my father too much. He was the most responsible sibling, more than his two older brothers. He too knew how to organize and handle the situations in the house when someone caused something to happen. He helped around the house because he pitied his parents who needed to work hard to raise his many siblings. There were times when he saw his mother cried because she was so tired of taking care of them. And so, my father decided that he would like to grow up very much, so he could help taking care of his siblings.

He matured too quickly. He had many rules for his siblings. He became strict. He did not know when to get loose and play. He was no fun.

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The younger siblings decided he was no fun and decided to avoid him.

When they learned to crawl, then walk, and talk, and run, and basically did anything else, they grew independent from him. They were free from his hold.

They said he was an old man trapped in a child's body. He never jokes and did silly things like they did. At first when they were young, they used to listen and followed him because he was the caretaker. They grew up and realized they could listened and followed other siblings who were more like them.

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Like how children should be.

The two older siblings were always together because there was only one-year difference between them. The twins were inseparable from birth, and the youngest brother and little sister too began to bond overtime.

So that left my father, set aside after being identified as different from the rest of his siblings. He was never a child. He matured too soon.

My father would not have that, of course. So sometimes he took it upon himself to insert into his siblings' lives, by being bossy and stuffy as my aunt told me.

My aunt said my father was trying very hard to be recognized that he had a significant role in the family. He also wanted to be included. It was just that they were too childish to let him in.

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When they took pictures, the siblings would stand in pairs; older brothers together, the twins inseparable, and the youngest brother and little sister were in the act of either fighting or hugging each other. And my father stood at the side smiling awkwardly; looking like a stranger in a family's photo.

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