Page 77 - North Star Magazine 2022
P. 77
Aunt Wendy tells us that we can come over to her place and spend the night. We will eat pizza and try to relax. We go home and grab our stuff. We brought the cat, Sassy, up for the night. Our house is not a safe place to sleep because everything has been renovated by my father.
We didn’t eat much. Bedtime arrives fast, but it doesn’t end fast. I can’t sleep at all. The image of my dad’s death permeated my mind. I keep on seeing the same shadow. Can it be my father? I don’t know. Can it be the reaper? I don’t know. Whoever that was kept my mind occupied during that grieving night.
Part 4: After Death
The death of our beloved father spread fast in our family. People gave us food, condolences, and my great aunt offered to help us out. She was surprised about my dad’s death. He was a tank. He could fall off a
roof and still get up. He could still work even when he is suffering from pneumonia. Well, we did warn him to take a break. I guess all the damage was too much on his body. The strongest ones can still collapse after holding up for so long.
There were many secrets unfolding. Uncle Jason revealed to us that his side of the family lived until the lower fifties from heart complications. Dad was fifty-one when he passed. He also had an underlying heart condition that remained untreated. Thus far, Jason didn’t suffer any heart complications. He and dad were opposites. My dad never smoked and never drank alcohol in his life while Jason did. I sometimes don’t understand how a person without those substances will still drop dead earlier than them.
Here’s the kicker, his clinic kept on delaying my dad’s appointments, despite his condition deteriorating. He lost weight, he couldn’t eat much food anymore, and he was in constant pain. This enraged me to no end and it still does. The reason why was unknown, but we suspected new patients were coming in and that meant money to them. I always wonder that if they got him in sooner, he would have still been around. I know it sounds selfish of me because there are other patients who were also in pain and in much worse condition. I can’t change the past now, so where do I go from here?
Now, I have the death of my father permanently in my memory that haunts me like a ghost playing a piano in the dead of night. Who is going to help me to keep me stable in my roughest times? Who is going to help me grow up? Who should I go to? The answer now points to the obvious: My mother, my brother, my sister, and my cat.