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Losing My Bestfriene

By , Fairfield, OH

On June 2nd 2008; I lost my Bestfriend. I was 6 years old, and my father was my best friend. We had a lot of fun together, and loved each other a ton. Losing him was the hardest thing then and will probably be the hardest thing to ever happen in my life.


The day started off just like any other June Saturday would—Waking up early to go to my older brother’s baseball games. Everything was going just fine and normal, until during the game, my mother started crying. I got very scared and anxious to find out why, because my mother never cries. I asked her, “What is wrong?”
She responded in unbelivingness, “Your dad is in the hospital.” I had no idea why he was in the hospital or what had happened to him. My mother then left the game immediately and wouldn’t take me or any of my siblings with her.


My mother’s friend came and picked up my siblings and I when the game was finished.  We went over to her house, and all of us stayed the night there.  I was very dubious to find out what had happened to my Father. I was only 6 years old; therefore, I couldn’t make out what was happening. I stayed up most of the night, playing video games and watching TV. I thought that everything was going to be just normal. I woke up the next morning and I noticed that my brother and sister were no longer at the house.  I asked my mother’s friend, “Where did they go?”


She responded Untruthfully, “They went to the grocery store with my husband.” I wasn’t old enough to understand that what she was telling me was a lie. Although she knew, She didn’t want to tell us where they had really went. We stayed at her house for most of the day, until it was finally time to go back home. I was still very curious as to why my brother and sister never showed back up to her house. Although I was still very curious to find out what had happened with my parents—I didn’t want to find out what it was.


Finally, we got back to my house. I was very fearful yet anxious to find out what had happened to my dad.  When we arrived to my house, there were cars parked all over the place, in the driveway, yard and street. My driveway looked like the Kings Island Amusement Park. I made my way up to the front door of my house and a man stopped me.


He said, “I’m sorry.” He also had flowers in his hand. I had no idea as to what he was talking about. A few moments later I got into the house and the first thing that I saw when I walked in was my brother and sister sitting on the couch. I wondered to myself “How did they get here?” I heard what sounded like people crying, I was extremely worried that something bad might have happened to my dad—like maybe he had gotten hurt or something like that.


After being in the house for about 15 minutes, my mom told me to come and see her in her bedroom. I walked into her room and I saw her and my aunt sitting on her bed. They were both crying. I asked her, “Mom what is wrong?”


She responded heartbroken, “Austin your dad is dead.” My mind went blank, My whole heart busted into a million pieces, and I started to cry a river. After what seemed like the longest week of my life, it was finally time to go to his funeral. Before we left, my uncle told us that this would be the hardest thing to ever happen in our lives. When we got to the funeral home, there was hundreds of people there. I didn’t really know what to expect. The time finally came to see him, it was the hardest thing in the world to see my deceased dad laying in a casket.

 

The worst part of any of these things, was that I never even got to say goodbye to him. After the viewing, we went to the burial and I could feel my dad’s presence. This would be the last time I ever see my father.






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