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A Goodbye Said too Soon This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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"Mom? Where are you? Mom? What's going on?" "We're at the hospital, they don't know what happened, he's in a coma..." "Who? Mom, who's in a coma? What happened?!" "Kenny is, I have to go... The doctor is coming out." *Click* This is a nightmare, this can't be happening!

So many things are racing through my head, what did she mean they didn't know what happened? How could he be in a coma and they just not know, why? I saw him a week ago, he was fine. How could something so terrible happen to us? Was he going to be okay? Somehow I knew the answer to that. No, he wasn't going to be okay. Why, why, why, why was this happening?

He lost so much blood, his brain was swelling more and more every day there was nothing we could do. In and out of the hospital for what felt like weeks, but was just a matter of a few days, we were just hoping something would change, anything. Nobody could admit it, but, we all knew he wasn't going to make it. How could a home accident end so tragically? Our once, happy family was about to become an emotional wreck. Nothing will ever be the same.

This can't be happening. He was a good person! He just got married, he has children. Three boys who are growing up without their daddy. Three young boys who won't be able to go to dad for advice. He won't be there on the first day of school, he's not going to be there for prom, he won't be there to see them get married, or have children of their own. This isn't fair. Why is this happening?

Kenny was not just my cousin, he was like my older brother, and he's not here anymore. I can't just pick up the phone and call him when I need help, or advice. I won't see his name on my Facebook newsfeed anymore, he's not going to comment with his witty remarks. He was always there, no matter what, when ever I needed him, whenever anyone needed him. Now he's gone and there's no way to bring him back. I just want him back.

It's a cold January morning, a week after I received the heart-wrenching phone call, everyone is dressed in black, with blood shot eyes. It's time to say goodbye to him. I don't want to. I can't do this. Why do I have to do this? When am I going to wake up from this terrible nightmare?

I didn't wake up. It's been two years since I had to say goodbye. It's hard, knowing I'll never hear his voice again. He's never going to come into a room with his huge, glowing smile and say; "Hey kiddo! How ya been?" I would give anything to see that smile again.

Still, two years later I have a hard time talking about him. I get that feeling in my throat that's warning me to stop before I lose it again. They say it gets better, but when? When does it get better? When will I be able to talk about the good times without thinking about the goodbye?



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