None of you know what happened to me six months ago, nor do I expect you to. This is my story.
On August 18 2008, my father committed suicide. Exactly one week after my brother visiting him. Exactly one week after him and I getting into a fight. Three months after I had seen him last. A huge part of me died when he died. I found comfort in things like cigarettes and my boyfriend. But none of that was going to give me my father back. My grades suffered all but one, my Composition class in which one of my papers was all about August 18th.
I may not have been able to see my father very often and I may not have talked to him daily. But now, I regret that. I say a prayer to him daily if not more than. I tell him what's going on my life and I ask him to keep me strong. Of course I do not feel strong. I cry myself to sleep every night, without doubt. It's amazing how much you don't realize you're missing until it's ripped away from you forever.
The week after my dad died, I came across 2 hummingbirds a day and because of that, my first tattoo is going to be a hummingbird because it represents him.
I miss you Daddy. May you rest in peace.
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