“I think you should have her wear the pink dress instead, it’s prettier!” Carly tells me as I begin shoving my plastic Barbie doll’s arms into a fluorescent green dress.
“Okay!”  I mindlessly respond as I yank the dress back off of it. My small hands pick up the pale pink dress that has small, white, pearl like beads that surround the neckline. It was a scorching hot day in August, and the sun was exposed without any clouds shielding its painfully warm rays. It was one of those days where it was too hot to play outside. For this reason, my neighbor Carly and I were sitting on the floor of my pink bedroom getting our Barbie’s ready for the royal ball.
“It’s time for the ball to-”
“BANG, BANG, BANG!” Carly was interrupted by a sound that caused my entire house to shake. The sound repeated about half a dozen times, and with each “bang” Carly and I jumped with fear. The sound was louder than any other sound that my four-year old ears had ever heard. We were both speechless, standing dead in our tracks. It was as if we couldn’t find the right words to say, to describe the fear that was traveling through every limb of our bodies.
We lifted our bodies off of the carpeted floor and slowly and carefully reached for the doorknob. I hesitantly turned the knob and let the door slowly fall open. We tip-toed down the hallway to the stairs like zombies, showing no emotion at all. We proceeded down the stairs, one step at a time until we finally reached the wooden floor at the bottom. It seemed as though it took an eternity to finally reach the last step, as the nerves increased with each step we took.
Immediately after reaching the main floor, I raced to the small square windows of my front door. Doing my best to see out of the window, I scan the evening sky for fireworks. The loud noises resembled the sound of fireworks, or at least that’s what was logical in my four-year old head at the time. After seeing no signs of fireworks in the dimly light sky, I turn my body so that I am facing the living room.
Right after I turn, my eyes meet with something unusual lying on my living room floor. What is that? Without thinking any further, I rush over to the other side of the couch to examine the situation further. When I was only a few small steps away, I realized that this wasn’t just a thing, it was a person. I scanned the blood stained body carefully and then I reached the head. I could recognize that face anywhere, it was my dad. 
I looked over the body again and again as if the next time I looked over it, it would be someone else. I blink repeatedly and rub my eyes, trying to erase the image from my head. This can’t be real. This isn’t how life is supposed to go. Where’s my happy ending? My head was racing with different thoughts of sadness, anger, and confusion. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that what I was seeing was actually real. But then I direct my attention back to his body lying lifelessly on the floor. He laid there, half of his six-foot frame draped over the side of the couch. His usual apparel, a white T shirt and jean shorts, looked like it had been used as a paint canvas that someone had splattered red paint all over. When I looked at his wounds, all I could think of was the pain he must have been in. But then when I reached his face, he looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, all the muscles in his face were relaxed, and his full lips were slightly parted. This reassured me that although this situation was absolutely horrible, he wasn’t in pain anymore.
With hot tears staining our bright red cheeks, my brother and I tightly huddle around our dad. You could see the agony behind my brother’s hazel eyes as he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He was devastated. The only man he had looked up to his whole life was now only a corpse lying on the floor at our feet. I too, was very sad, but my brother had always been closer to my dad. “We have to go,” Carly reminded us, “the person who did this could still be around.” Practically tearing us from our dad’s side, Carly led us to the door and we exited my house.
Over the years I have thought deeply of this incident. One thought the re occurs often is what I would have done differently if I knew he was going to pass so soon. I regret all the times I didn’t say “I love you”. I only wish that I could go back and spend more time with him. I had always been a mommy’s girl, and I didn’t always give my dad the love that I gave my mom. I know that I was only four years old, but I feel like I could have done so much more with him.
There is no doubt that this was the most traumatizing experience of my life. It will forever be something that affects me and continues to impact my life. This experience has truly shaped the person that I have become today. I am now someone who cherishes every moment of every day of my life because I know how quickly things can change for the worst. Life isn’t kind to anyone. It isn’t something that asks for your approval before crashing down right before your eyes. You have to take control of your life. You can’t let things or people that make you unhappy stick around and continue to impact your life negatively. Life is simply too short to be unhappy.
Whenever I try to talk about this topic to others, they always seem so surprised. They all expect me to be sobbing and just completely unable to even speak upon the subject. Over the years it has gotten easier and easier to talk about because I have had time to reflect, to grieve. Although I miss my dad everyday, I have learned that everything happens for a reason, and although that reason may not seem apparent at first, it will become clear if you give it time.