(may be triggering to some)
I remember that day so clearly..vivid...
~Still wondering to this day, how to get the image out of my head. I drink...I pray...I cry; but the image, the memory, only grows clearer and more painful through the day, every day...every night.
...For 6 years now, and counting~
I've never tried writing...what kind of realease can I get from this? What do I see:
His blood, its pouring out of his eyes, his ears, his mouth and his nose. His body so lifeless...my fathers eyes looking at me;dead. A gun on the floor next to him, its stainless steel reflecting the sun from the California beach through the window behind him. Papa? What did you do?
I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move...I wanted to collapse, but, nothing. I was frozen at the sight. Just panic breathing, panting, and a mixture of sobs and dull words. I felt it building up, like a storm. In my chest I felt pain, my heart was being crushed, the feeling was quite literal. I had, had a minor heart attack, though I didnt know I was having it at the moment. I don't know if it was the shock, but without recollection of how I got from the doorway to him, I was in his lap crying so viciously, so...barbaric. Covered in his blood now, I didn't let him go. Thinking...how can you take him too? Waiting, for him to come back. I screamed, I cursed..nothing. When I looked up I could'nt stand the look on his face, it was so lifeless, I was so scared; I can't...find words for this.
I heard the front door open and the beep of the alarm system...I knew it was my brother. For some reason, I did'nt want him to see. My heart raced as I heard him approaching the room. So much tears in my eyes I could barely see his face when he came through the doorway. I looked at him with hoping eyes, he looked at me with fear. He reached his hand out and told me to come to him. He was at the door way, at that moment I knew I had to let my father go on, and that it would just be me and my brother now. I hesitated as I sat on the floor. It wasn't till he yelled at me and ordered me to come to him did I get up and walk painstakingly to him...
...I didn't look back as I walked, and I never in person saw my fathers face again. This is my clearest memory of him. I wish i could remember him differently.
I miss him...
(no comments necessary, just glad to have somewhere to send this)