Chapter One
This is where my story starts its downward spiral at the age of nine.
When I was nine, my father passed away on October 26th, 2003. I haven't been the same
ever since. My dad was my best friend and I was a total daddy's girl. He died because
he stopped breathing. He was sick for a longgg time and was in several hospitals and
nursing homes. You may think that nursing homes are only for old geezers but that is
not true. Not at all. Yeah, there will be oldies there but also younger people like
my dad.
My dad was only 41 when he died. Earlier in his life, he had a brain tumor or two and
several strokes. One time, my mom took my brother and I shopping for my cousins birthday
and when we arrived home, we found my dad unconcious on the floor. And another thing
that happened was that my dad lost his balance and fell down the stairs and gashed his
right eyebrow open. I was so scared that I called my mom, panicking. She told me she was
on her way home and that she was going to call my grandma to come since she was closer
to our house at the time. I don't remember why, but I said goodbye to my dad, whom was
bleeding and at the end of the stairs, and left for school because I was afraid of
missing the bus. Stupid, I know, but I was in first grade. What do you expect from me?
Anyways, getting back on track, I never thought my dad would die. Ever. Until my mom
got a call at five a.m. on October 26th. Out of my mom, brother, and I, it hit me the
most. I was a mess and had to skip half a week of school. I was in shock. I either
cried constantly or had no emotion whatsoever. We had the wake on the 28th and the
funeral on the 29th. I had no emotions by then. I cried myself dry. I lost some weight
because I had no appetite. And for school, it was all a big blur. I don't remember
anything from third grade except for my teacher and classroom aid.
At the wake, my teachers from third grade and years past came and my friends at the
time brought me stuffed animals. Why stuffed animals? I will never know. The kids in
my third grade class drew me pictures to make me feel better. I was a nice gesture
even though I am pretty positive that my teacher told them to make the picture.
Throughout the day and night of the wake, I kept wishing my dad was going to magically
going to come back to life, but that was just my imagination getting the best of me.
The actual burial was hard for me. My mom got my dad cremated. I didn't not like that,
but my mom told me that it was what my dad wanted. I thought, that cremation is wrong
even though they are dead. But it was my dad's wishes.
He was burried next to his grandparents, his mother's parents, since their tombstone
had another spot left open. My grandpas, who died two months before I was born in 1995
and the other that died when I was three, were also burried in the same cemetery.
I really had no father figures left. I think that is what lead me being so independent,
especially with guys. If I didn't like something a guy I was with did, I would do my
own thing instead. But my dad's death was also the start of a new me.
I now pretty much always keep my emotions to myself. I rarely talk about them to my
friends or family. I keep everything bottled up unitl I crack. When I crack, it is
not pretty. I will just cry for hours. My face would be all red and puffy, my eyes
bloodshot, and my nose snot filled. Like I said, not pretty. On the otherhand, my
stepsister thinks I am gorgeous when I am bawling my eyes out. I disagree with her
about that.
Sometimes when I crack, it is at school. Now being in highschool, I try not to have
a breakdown, but when something hits me hard enough, I will have to leave the room
and cry. Like now in health, we are talking about mental health such as depression,
fear, and death and dying, I have to hold back on my tears. People may call my a
crybaby, but screw them. They have no idea what it is like to lose their parent.
You know those five stages of death and dying? I still have not accepted the fact
that my dad will never come back. I am still stuck in the depression stage. Everyday
when I come home from school, I stille expect to see my dad's face, him giving me
a giant hug, and asking me about my day. And that is never going to happen ever again.
I have not been emotionally stable ever since. That is why I put a shell around myself.
In person, I fake a lot of things. Happiness, smiles, other emotions, when all I do is
just want to feel numb. I hate having emotions. They make me feel wayyy to vulnerable.
Something that recently happened pissed me off. My friend was asking me for an example
of our chemistry project when my gramda called me. I didn't respond to my friends text
so I could answer the phone. When I hung up, I saw that my friend texted me again, being
a huge bitch about me about me not helping her. I told her that I was on the phone with
my freaking grandmother, who is my dad's mom. I still think my friend does not realize
that my grandma is one of the few people that is the closest thing to my father besides
my brother and my aunt. It just sucks sometimes knowing that people will never be able
to fully relate to what I had to and still am dealing with today.
I just want to thank you girls so much, for bringing hope into my life again. <33
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