My father died mysteriously, at the age of 38, last September 23. His body was found on October 1. He had gone to Phoenix the week before, and when he stopped calling every day, we knew that something was wrong. I had a dream the night that he died where he came to me and told me he was dead, but I didn't believe it. My mom began to sleep with the phone, and someone had to stay home at all times to answer it just in case he called. He never did.
My sisters and I had just gotten home from school when my mom finally got a hold of the trailer park where he was staying. At first they wouldn't tell her anything, but when she became hysterical, they told her that the police had found him a few hours earlier. My uncle and grandmother were on their way over to tell us. My brother told me and I started screaming and my legs went out. For the next week, I felt like I was in a daze all of the time. I couldn't think straight, couldn't speak much, nothing. The most terrible thing was watching the rest of my family hurt so much and not being able to help them at all. My sisters were 12 and 13, I was 15, and my brother was 17.
This experience was the best test of my friends that I have ever seen. One friend that I had known for less than 2 months drove me around for hours the weekend after he died, listening to me cry. And then one of my best friends that I had known for 10 years didn't return my phone calls. You really learn who you can trust when worst comes to worst.
I miss my dad more than I ever thought possible, and I would give anything to have him back to be with me for even a short time. I feel cheated when I see weddings or graduations knowing that my father will never see any one his kids grow up or get married or have children. I realize how much that I took for granted.
You can send email to Kristi at: [email protected]
anniversary date 9-23-97
date of post 3-18-98