It was September 16th, 2015 was the day I lost my person. My dad was my person. I mean that as my best friend. The only person I saw fit to take care of me as a father should. He was driving down to work one day as a car was speeding down the lane opposite of him. She hit a deer that ricocheted off her car through my dad’s windshield. Goes to show you that not every day is promised… This is how it all started. It was 6:45 when my mother woke me up for school this particular Wednesday morning. My dad left for work at 6:00. Normally I hear him leave but, this morning was different. I got into my shower and got ready in the bathroom. I hear slight yelling in the backroom. I just thought my mom was singing as she does in the morning. Little did I
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My father died around 6:45 am. Then the funeral called us to tell us we could see him. I wanted to see him. They said he had some scratches on him and covered them. We drove as fast as we could to the funeral home. I finally saw him but, it wasn’t him. They showed me a body with latex all over it to make it look perfect. It had beautifully sown stiches around its neck. It was cold, stone like even. Its body painted a light fleshy color and you could see the places they missed, careless… They didn’t care, just another thing to sit still and look pretty for the crowd. He lied there after a while in the casket after they clothed him. People came by and stared at him. They would look down crying and I was so confused. Why were they crying? I’ve never seen these people before how do they have a right to cry over my father? I got very frustrated. They came up to me and told me how good he was and how much he meant to them. My dad was always at home or at work. How did he know so many people and not tell me? I didn’t want them near my dad or even walk inside. I asked my mom later that night if she could just leave me alone with my dad. That was the last time I would ever see
My father died around 6:45 am. Then the funeral called us to tell us we could see him. I wanted to see him. They said he had some scratches on him and covered them. We drove as fast as we could to the funeral home. I finally saw him but, it wasn’t him. They showed me a body with latex all over it to make it look perfect. It had beautifully sown stiches around its neck. It was cold, stone like even. Its body painted a light fleshy color and you could see the places they missed, careless… They didn’t care, just another thing to sit still and look pretty for the crowd. He lied there after a while in the casket after they clothed him. People came by and stared at him. They would look down crying and I was so confused. Why were they crying? I’ve never seen these people before how do they have a right to cry over my father? I got very frustrated. They came up to me and told me how good he was and how much he meant to them. My dad was always at home or at work. How did he know so many people and not tell me? I didn’t want them near my dad or even walk inside. I asked my mom later that night if she could just leave me alone with my dad. That was the last time I would ever see