5,187 people died due to brain cancer in 2012, and my dad was one of them. One of the souls stolen from this world before their time.
The hospital unearthed it in an MRI, dug it out of a tranquil soil. Sitting by his hospital bed, I’m not able to find the forte to look into his eyes, because I’m terrified that I will catch the moment the warm glow in his gaze will be replaced with an emotionless, lifeless stare. It was a long road down to this juncture; each step more ruinous that the last, every one more painful than the one before.
At first I was numb, anaesthetised…Unable to consider the thought of losing him, to live a life without my hero. When dad came home with the news that shook us all, when all the cards fell down and the walls burnt …show more content…
We weren’t just father and son. We were best friends, and for some strange reason, I was his only friend. My dad couldn’t make friends; my guess was that he put up barriers, preventing anybody from getting close to him. He didn’t have the best upbringing. He spent his youth caring for his deaf and dumb parents in a miniature rundown house. Heavily bullied, he developed in himself an abhorrence to people. That everyone except family was the enemy. But he deserved to have friends, people other than his son to talk to and share his life with. After all, he was my …show more content…
I was the closest person in the world to my dad. We talked to each other about our problems. Everything I have, I owe to my dad, and my existence is simply a product of his creation. And I know that he dedicated his every moment to always be there and provide the best life for his family that he could… but now he is departing. It makes it so much harder, I’m not just losing my dad, I am losing my other half.
The best part of my week was when I could accompany my dad in anything he was doing, he worked terrible hours, and occasionally I would not see him for weeks on end. But when we would see each other there was an uproar of activity and chatter, subjects we had been storing up in our minds to tell each other when we had the chance. Those nights were the happiest times of my life.
When I was a baby, dad said how he missed all the moments that he should have been there for, and subsequently it was his biggest regret not seeing his son grow up. My first words, my first steps and learning how to ride a bike. The biggest times for him that I was oblivious to, but now that he isn’t here, I understand why he felt the way he did. I now cherish the tiniest moments I shared with him. I would give anything to share another day with him
The hospital unearthed it in an MRI, dug it out of a tranquil soil. Sitting by his hospital bed, I’m not able to find the forte to look into his eyes, because I’m terrified that I will catch the moment the warm glow in his gaze will be replaced with an emotionless, lifeless stare. It was a long road down to this juncture; each step more ruinous that the last, every one more painful than the one before.
At first I was numb, anaesthetised…Unable to consider the thought of losing him, to live a life without my hero. When dad came home with the news that shook us all, when all the cards fell down and the walls burnt …show more content…
We weren’t just father and son. We were best friends, and for some strange reason, I was his only friend. My dad couldn’t make friends; my guess was that he put up barriers, preventing anybody from getting close to him. He didn’t have the best upbringing. He spent his youth caring for his deaf and dumb parents in a miniature rundown house. Heavily bullied, he developed in himself an abhorrence to people. That everyone except family was the enemy. But he deserved to have friends, people other than his son to talk to and share his life with. After all, he was my …show more content…
I was the closest person in the world to my dad. We talked to each other about our problems. Everything I have, I owe to my dad, and my existence is simply a product of his creation. And I know that he dedicated his every moment to always be there and provide the best life for his family that he could… but now he is departing. It makes it so much harder, I’m not just losing my dad, I am losing my other half.
The best part of my week was when I could accompany my dad in anything he was doing, he worked terrible hours, and occasionally I would not see him for weeks on end. But when we would see each other there was an uproar of activity and chatter, subjects we had been storing up in our minds to tell each other when we had the chance. Those nights were the happiest times of my life.
When I was a baby, dad said how he missed all the moments that he should have been there for, and subsequently it was his biggest regret not seeing his son grow up. My first words, my first steps and learning how to ride a bike. The biggest times for him that I was oblivious to, but now that he isn’t here, I understand why he felt the way he did. I now cherish the tiniest moments I shared with him. I would give anything to share another day with him