Tall, tan, and as talkative as any person could ever be, that was my father. He was a troubled kid, always messing around and somehow always in the wrong place at the wrong time. I still remember the stories of how he would sneak out and go to the river to skinny dip with all his friends. Or how he once got a slingshot and was so confused on how to aim that he ended up hitting his cousin and knocking him out cold. According to my father, those were the good old days.
He lived in the poor countryside. He grew up learning how to farm and take care of animals. He says that we kids now have it all easy and planned for us, we are not taught the values that come with real work and responsibility. Where he grew up, it was illegal to even dare sell or consume meat, which is how my grandfather got imprisoned for a little over three years. My father would always tell me that you never learn how to grow up until you are faced with the reality of being the man of the house. I can still remember him telling me how at 16 it was so difficult to be my age at that time and have to work to feed your family. He would say that while all his friends were out having fun and partying, he was in jail visiting his father, or making money to buy food to feed his younger sister and his mom.
A few years later, after all the teenager’s struggle and hard work, his father was released for behaving well in prison. I can imagine the excitement and happiness that my father must have had. He had been longing for that moment for so long, the moment to be able to run to his father and get the warm hug that he had missed. To be able to touch him and talk to him for as long as he wanted to, without having that glass wall between them. With my father describing his happiness, I could almost transport myself to the moment. Now that my grandfather was home, everything was back to normal and grandfather was back to doing business. My father decided that he had faced enough of reality for a while and that it was time for him to go and study something he was passionate for, to be a veterinarian. He had a passion for animals mostly for dogs. He absolutely loved being surrounded by animals, whether they were deathly sick or perfectly fine. It was a job that he enjoyed and that made him happy.
He told me that one day, this blue-eyed, blonde, skinny woman walked into his clinic with her dog, and he had never seen her before. He thought he was seeing an angel. He said he had fallen in love at first sight. He described it as a perfect moment and said no woman ever compared to the beauty his angel possessed. The story ended before I could hear any more.

One of the last things my father told me before he passed away was that there were no women more amazing in the world than my mother and me. Saying this, he welled up into tears. I could hear his breathing get louder with every tear. He then whispered to me, “It’s a shame I won’t be there to meet my grandsons in the future, but just know that I will be there in spirit and in heart. I love you.” After those last three words, I heard the heart monitor go off. He had stopped breathing. I fell into his bed and with the sound increasing louder and louder, my pain grew more and more. The doctors pushed me off my father and threw me on the ground. At that point, I didn’t care. Nothing mattered to me, I had lost my father. The one man who had understood me my whole life had passed away.
Weeping alone in the corner of my bed, my cheeks were red as a tomato from all the crying. My eyes hurt; I had no more tears left in me. It was heart breaking. There was mucous all over my pillow and bed sheets from sobbing all night long. I was not hungry, and I did not want to go out. The death of my father was pain and torture enough; I had no need to communicate with others so that they could feel bad for me and constantly remind me of what I was going through. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be isolated from the world.
I was physically and mentally in pain. My soul was aching and so was my mind. The pain caused by my father’s death has left me immortal. I feel as if I am dead inside. I have a smile for the world to see but that is not my real emotion. Ever since my father died, I have not been out of my house once. I hired a lady to buy my food and get everything for me. Never would I have thought that I would be stuck like this. My father would have never wanted me to stay like this but who cares? He’s dead anyways.