Tomorrow Isn't Promised

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Tomorrow Isn’t Always Promised Throughout my childhood everything was always changing. My friends, my clothes, my ideas, my likes and dislikes, it all changed. But there was always one thing that I thought I could count on to never change, and that was my relationship with my dad. My dad and I were so close. He would always play his guitar and sing the chorus to “Brown Eyed Girl” to me. He took me everywhere. I was daddy’s little girl. I thought that nothing could ever tear us apart. We always had fun together. We would laugh at everything together. Little did I know that our time was very limited. On April 18, 1997, my mom dropped off at my friend, Skie’s, house. While I was going to Skie’s house, my mom, Gabe (my brother), Mary (my sister), and Nicole (my sister) were going to visit my dad in the hospital. I told them I would go the next night, but I had no idea there wouldn’t be a next night. That night was a lot of fun. Skie and I played house, jumped on the trampoline, played with out Polly Pocket dolls, it was a blast. The next morning my mom came to pick me up. The car was silent. Usually when you have a brother and two sisters in the car, it is very noisy. No one was fighting over the radio, no one fought for who gets the front seat, my sister of six months wasn’t crying, everyone was just sitting there in silence. I immediately knew something was wrong. When I asked my mom what was going on, instead of answering she asked me if I had a good time. I told her yes, but asked again what was going on. She was silent for a minute, and then finally told me that my dad had died around four that morning. I was shocked. I couldn’t even cry at first. Then I realized what she had just said, and I lost it. I just remember so many things going through my head at the point. I kept thinking it was just a cruel joke. How could this have

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