My Dad Left Me On the Last Day of Summer

“Medics here, who needs help?” he questioned. It’s almost like Sasha never heard me tell him I was fine.

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

"The doc is probably watching us right now," Sans said. "I'd hate to be so blunt while a lady is watching, but you gave me no choice. Let's head in the house, so I can get some head."

I ran to Ms. Gallagher’s room as fast as I could. “I’m going to take you down to radiology so you can get a brain scan,” I informed her. “Why, what’s wrong with me?” she asked. “I’m not sure yet.”

We walk back to the shelters to get some sleep, and I sit there awake for a minute until my father falls asleep. In the morning when I awake, my father is very sick, so I take him to the doctor. The doctor rejects to help because he is a surgeon. I take my father back to the shelter to let him rest some more. I leave him to go outside to get more coffee. I think back to all the things me and my father have been through. Losing my mother and sister will always reply through my head, remembering them holding hands and moving off to the left, and my father holding onto my hand, and we walking away from them. The last thing I got to do was just look into there eyes and turn and walk away. Once I got back I found my father not there. I knew where he had gone, they had taken him to the furnace. I dropped to the floor wanting to cry, wanting to have a fit like a normal teenager. Deep into his feelings he thought “Free at last.” He was free to only think about surviving, and not to worry about anyone but himself. I will miss my father. I love him. I will never forget how much he did for me, he is the reason why I am still

“My office is right at the back of the clinic, I saw what was happening on the news and took precautions before they tried to check this room. They think the door won’t open because the room is empty and if you don’t mind me being quiet, I’d like to let them keep thinking that.” He grumbled.

A pair of young men from the village had found him by the side of the road, just toward the local wood. He was badly wounded, as far as they could see, and completely unconscious. They had brought him right to her.

Dad and I grew apart after that. We just drowned in our sorrows, too far away to help each other up. And just two months after Mom’s death, Dad went. “Suicide” they called it. It was murder. No matter how desperate or depressed he was, Dad would never kill himself. He wouldn’t leave his only child behind, letting them slowly die by themselves from the pain. Dad would never.

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

“You can go home,” he said with a small, sad smile. I nodded and a nurse came in and unhooked me from all the wires. Vic handed me a small bag of mine that he had filled with my clothes. I went into the bathroom to change when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My teal and purple hair was all over the place and there were dark circles under my eyes. Both wrists were bandaged and my skin was almost half black-blue, half normal due to all the abuse. My make-up was

Silence. As though there is no life. I observe the house, unchanged since it happened. Wandering past framed photos of her. My mother. This house, once a home, now feels uninhabited, empty. But I know my dad is in the other room. I don’t even remember the last time we spoke. Time is the last thing you think about when something you love is taken from you. Like a child stripped from their favourite soft toy. The one that’s always with them, first pick for sleeping with. It’s strange how something big impacts people in different ways. I’m quite like dad. Emotions control your soul leaving nothing but a mangled body. Losing her made it feel like there was no reason to

“Hello?” I say and brace myself against a cough that wracks my body. “I was told I’d find the doctor here.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I say, “I need to take a better look at the wound though, okay?”

“Take care of you mother for me when I am gone,” and with that my once loving father climbs into his car, driving away. I watch as the car 's taillights glow in the dark, slowly becoming smaller and smaller. He’s gone.

Clotho didn’t make it through the night. Jim stepped out of the operating room and dropped down in a chair just outside. His gaze never stopped looking forward as Chandi got up from a chair on the opposite side of the door looking at him with some kind of hopeful expectation. That hope was dashed the moment she saw his pale face.