The Night I Lost My Father

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The night I lost my father “I’m sorry, he did not make it” I have never been brought to my knees so quickly until the day that someone uttered these words to me. The night of June 26th was the night that I lost the one and only man that has loved me unconditionally since the day I was born- my father. My 52 year old father was diagnosed with colon cancer and in a matter of three weeks was gone. I find a lot of truth in the saying “Time heals all wounds, but the scar remains.” The pain of losing my father lessens as time goes by but it never really ever goes away. The memory of losing my father is still very vivid in my head. It was a Thursday night, and I had just gotten home from a long and tiring day of work and school. As I walk into the living room and set my things down, I see my mother sitting on the couch in silence with the phone held tightly in her hands and tears rolling down her cheeks. Just by the look in her eyes I could sense that something was wrong, and to my surprise I was right. She looked at me and said, “I just got off the phone with your aunt, and she says that your dad might not make it through the night.” I suddenly felt this pain in my chest as if someone had just ripped my heart out and shoved it back in. I froze and stood there with a blank expression on my face as if someone had just grabbed the remote and pressed “pause.” My thought process was slowed down and I could not comprehend what was happening all too quickly. I couldn’t convince myself to believe what I just heard. I kept saying in my mind, “No this can’t be real, he’s going to be fine.” But by the time I got to the hospital and walked into the ICU room, I was brought back to reality: a reality where death was the only future. Although it’s been quite some time since the day he passed away, the memory of it is still very clear. Every image,
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