Personal Narrative: Losing My Father

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Losing my dad and learning how to cope with the lack of his presence is the most difficult thing I’ve had to do. At the time of his death, I was only six years old. Being so young, I never fully understood what was happening. It all felt like a nightmare that I would eventually wake up from, but unfortunately it wasn’t.
Our bond was unlike any other ‘father-daughter’ relationship. We were best friends. I was his only child, I was daddy’s little girl. Being an army child, I didn’t get to see him every day, but when I did, we made the most out of it. Every morning he would wake me up to his homemade breakfasts and we’d watch Mickey Mouse together. He was the best dad anyone could ask for. My child-hood was spent on an army base located in Kentucky. During his many deployments I would anxiously countdown the days for his return. Thankfully, he came home safe and retired from the army in early 2003. After his retirement, we moved to a small town, Caddo Mills, Texas.
Just months after moving into our new home, my dad began to get sick. Every morning he would wake up nauseous and
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The nurses diagnosed my dad with a mild case of Pneumonia, but unfortunately they had caught it too late. After weeks of sleeping on the floor of the hospital, eating out of the vending machines, and constantly praying as a family, it was all over. His fight was over. There was nothing the nurses could do. I remember my mom breaking down in front of the hospital entrance. Young and confused, I didn’t understand what had happened, or why everyone was panicking. It wasn’t until the morning after we left that I found out about his death. My mom stood at the front door waiting as I got off the school bus. In her hand she had an angel ‘beanie baby’ with my Dad’s name on it. Her hands trembled as she handed it to me. With tears escaping her eyes, she began to explain my dad wasn’t coming home. How? How do you explain death to a six year

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