The Day I Lost My Dad
I lost my dad! It was strange not to have been woken up by my dad’s honk. Whenever I slept off without seeing him, I was rest assured when he arrived, he would come to my room to give me pecks that I wholeheartedly adored. But that night, what woke me up was the choking silence. I woke up to its grip and sound. No laughter, no chatter, no familiar hum of my father’s snoring. Just silence. I laid in bed, thinking of he arrived yet or not. I checked my small watch lying beside me on the bed. It was not too late into the night yet, just some minutes past seven. But the silence all over was deafening. I knew something was off. “Dad?” I called out, my voice a little bit low, raspy due to the short sleep I had. No response. I threw off the covers and rushed to his room. His bed was empty, the sheets neatly tucked in. “Mom?” I called, running to the living room. “He is not back?” I asked my mom. She was sitting on the couch, her eyes red and puffy. “Hi, sweetie,” she said, her voice trembling. “Where’s Dad?” I demanded. She took a deep breath. “He didn’t come home last night. I thought he was working late, but…I just got a call from the hospital.” My heart sank. “What? What happened?” I asked walking to her with my heart throbbing. She hesitated. “He was in an accident. “So, what happened, mom?” I asked with trembling voice. I sensed something was off already but I didn’t want to admit it. The more I questioned her, the more she let our her hot tears. I didn’t want to believe this. “He is gone!” She managed to say amidst tears. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “No,” I whispered, collapsing onto the couch beside her. Then, I gave out a loud shout, “No!” She walked up to me and held me tightly. I wailed, cried and screamed. We sat there, holding each other, and crying profusely. The night was a long one. We literally slept off on the rug after hours of weeping. We were in the hospital the following day. The hospital was a blur. I remember walking through the doors, seeing the somber faces, and feeling like I was in a nightmare. My father’s body lay in the morgue, cold and still. I couldn’t bear to look at him. Tears ran down my cheeks unheeded. I saw the same on my mother’s face too. She consoled me. No one to console her. It looked like a nightmare. “Dad! Wake up!” I whispered. I guessed it was too late because he remained silent no matter the number of times I called out. A nurse approached us, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Would you like to see him?” My mother nodded, but I shook my head. “I can’t,” I whispered. The nurse nodded understandingly. “It’s okay. Take your time.” We sat in the waiting room, surrounded by sterile walls and the stench of disinfectant. My mother held my hand, her grip was tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I know how much he meant to you.” She soberly said. She held her tears. I nodded, unable to speak. My father was more than just a parent, he was my hero, my confidant, my best friend. As we left the hospital, the bright sunlight hit me like a slap in the face. How could the world be so beautiful when my heart was shattering into a million pieces? I went through the motions, numb and detached in the days that followed. I felt nothing. I didn’t want to leave. But on the day of the funeral, something shifted. As I stood, looking out at the sea of faces, I felt a surge of anger and sadness. I thought of who be in my school to see me graduate, to walk me down the aisle, to meet his grandchildren. But most of all, I was angry that he was not here to tell me that everything will be okay. I cried bitterly on this day. Tears streamed down my face as I looked out at my mother, who was crying uncontrollably too. People gathered around but their condolences wouldn’t do a thing to erase my dad’s unforgettable memories. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. The pain never fully went away, but it became bearable. Have I learned to live with it? I can’t say. When the silence became too much, I would whisper, “Dad, I miss you.” And in my heart, I knew he was still with me, guiding me through the darkness. I still miss him. I still do. READ ALSO How One Girl Faces Her Family’s Dark Legacy
