Dad

This is a piece I wrote as a part of my senior memoir.

On December 5th, 2009, the people of my hometown waited anxiously in the cold on Main Street for the annual Christmas parade. On December 5th, 2009, I stood in my aunt's arms and cried as people wheeled my father’s dead body away.

My dad and I had this dance. We would turn up Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” and we would shake out butts in the kitchen while we cooked dinner. When my sister and I had our YMCA basketball games at the same time, I would have him come to mine, and mom went to Alex’s. My brother and I would walk home from school and he’d come by in the old, white jeep and pick us up. He would sit in the Family Dollar parking lot and spin his tires to bring me joy. He let me drive on his lap on the way to my papaw’s house. He taught me how to mow and weedeat. We sat on the back porch and watched storms together. We built pools together. We would take naps in the same recliner together. He took us to breakfast at Bob Evans.

I’ll never get to go to breakfast with him again. I won’t get to have him walk me down the aisle. He won’t be there to scare off my first boyfriend. He doesn’t get to see me graduate. He won’t see me finish high school. We don’t get to take pictures together at senior prom. He won’t see my sister grow up. He wasn’t there for my brother’s graduation from the Marine’s boot camp. He wasn’t there when my mom bought our house, our home.

We went fishing and gardened. I watched Titanic for the first time with him. We watched Glee together. I went to Holiday World with him once and we played in the kiddy pool together at the City Pool. He held me when I cried and made me laugh. He taught me how to ride a bike and told me I looked cute in a pair of hideous red croc’s. He made my lunch and prepared me for the homework I would have in grade’s to come. He held my hand and picked me up from South School every now and then as a surprise. We took a trip to Memphis, Tennessee once. It was for a funeral, but it was so much fun. We stayed in a hotel and the breakfast was super yummy. We watched Journey to the Center of the Earth. We drank soda and I slept in the same bed as my little sister. My brother and I played our game boys in the back seat of the car. His was blue, mine was red.

My dad was my best friend, and now he’s gone. Gone forever. I will never get him back. No matter how hard I beg, or cry, or try to negotiate I will never have him in my life again. He’s a memory. Memories fade. Some people get to remember it, but others just can’t. It’s not a television series you can re-watch on Netflix. It isn’t a dead bird in the backyard. It’s a human. A human being that made me, that held me. A human being that raised me, that was supposed to help raise me forever and in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. There was no last goodbye, no hugs or kisses. No one was with him. We all went to bed thinking everything was going to be fine.

On December 5th, 2009, the people of my hometown waited anxiously in the cold on Main Street for the annual Christmas parade. On December 5th, 2009, I stood in my aunt's arms and cried as people wheeled my father’s dead body away.