To stop. To be unbecoming.
Death comes again, but it is always unexpected for me. There is no closure. There is no chance for a real goodbye. I think that’s the hardest part about coping my family’s deaths. Both of my brother and father had passed away. They passed away almost the exact same way.
- On a Tuesday.
- Normal day.
- Rained the night prior.
- Surrounded by non-family members.
- Search and rescue team.
- Waiting for better news.
- No last goodbyes.
My last moment with my dad was at home. He came home to have a small meal, and he was preparing another boat trip. The last thing that he needed from me was a micro-usb charger. Before I was able to locate one and hand him one, he left the house and went on his way. I open the front door of the house and see his van leaving. That is the last memory that I have of him.
My dad, by no means, is the perfect man. He’s the talk of the town, legend of East Biloxi streets. Sometimes, the talk isn’t positive, like at all. Sometimes, it is. He is a really kind man. Now, I think about it; he never shown aggression with his friends or his surroundings. He was really loud at times because he thought that he was always right about something.
How do I feel about his death? I really don’t know. He was never really home. He was always out and about and doing his own things. It still feels like he’s running around town and doing his own things. Sometimes, I’m waiting for him to come home. Sometimes, I know he isn’t.
How did I feel about Johnny’s death? Sometimes, I would wait for his calls. Sometimes, I know it won’t come.
People who envy my strength, please don’t. It came with a lot of pain. Excuse me while I go look for it again.