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That day.


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September 17th was an awful day. From the time I woke to the time I lay. The knock on the door early that morning woke my family, the sun barely shining. My sister and I waited. My mom was on the porch. Talking and crying for the worst. My aunts and uncles were surrounding my house, while I sat on the couch. I peeped out the window to see the problem; my eyes only captured a family’s saga. Kleenexes were being passed left to right. There wasn’t a clear eye in sight. The iron-on patterns rested on my lap, all I was waiting for was a laugh. Emily held me and said it’s going to be okay. When the door creaked open we didn’t know what to say. My mom grabbed another box and left without a word. I quickly prayed to the Lord. I was scared by now, not knowing the options. It’s sad a six year old had to deal with the questions. First grade was great; I’ve never encountered fear until that day when it was near. I looked out the window one last time, to see cars leaving without a goodbye. My mom came in worried. We knew it had to be scary. Mom sat in the middle of the ripped torn up couch, we squished around not caring if there was a crowd. The words came out slowly and broken. My sister covered her eyes and let out a cry. I sat in confusion waiting for the meaning of died. My dad couldn’t come to the funeral, or the next family holiday party. He was absent at my birthdays, too. He left after the death and never returned. I could feel his presence, though. Like he came back from time-time. I would get a present on my birthday signed DAD. He sent the presence of an angel at Christmas time. But, I know he was there at the funeral for the loss of a loved one. I saw him myself. He was by the flowers in the front of the dark room. Dad had a suit on and looked very fancy. He didn’t smile or look at me, but he knew I was there. He was peaceful and quiet, not making a noise. Although, he was crowded the entire time. When I decided to talk to him, I was shaky and sad. Tears fell quickly again and again. I was seeing my dad in a different way. He would always be the one to stand over me and tuck me in at night. Whisper I love you to a senseless soul. The roles were reversed when I saw him that day, in a bad way. Dad was laying and I was standing. Dad was asleep in his “bed” when I was rubbing his head. A whisper was heard, but not be me. For I was the one to spread the three little words. I love you traveled from the Funeral Home to the sky above. It finally reached Heaven and was heard by one, but not too long was returned to a girl’s heart from her father above.

The grave site is decorated and a stone lies on grass. With a name printed clearly that will always last. His name was written in black on the spot where a Dad can rest.



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