Growing up

It was a normal day even a normal week. I was half way through my freshman year of high school. I never really did great in school but I didn’t do horrible, I would say I was average. This year was different for some reason I didn’t care about my grades, I didn’t care that my parents were disappointed. I guess my life outside of school was so crazy I couldn’t focus on school. My life was normal for most of my life well it still is pretty normal but it seemed perfect I know that is saying a lot because no family is perfect, but when I was little I didn’t see all the things going on behind the scenes. I grew up in a normal neighborhood with two parents; we had plenty of money to support us. In other words we were the typical family. It took me a couple years to realize that my family wasn’t perfect that my family was far from perfect. Growing up it seemed like it was just me my mom and brother. My father was never really around, he would come home late with the smell of alcohol on his breath and leave early for work. He wasn’t the best dad but he supported us and no matter what I still loved him. Even when things got out of control and my mom would pack up our stuff and we would leave the house and go to a hotel. I still loved him. I started getting better at lying. My friends and teachers would ask why I wasn’t in school I would lie and say “I had a doctor’s appointment” or “I didn’t feel good” or “my alarm didn’t go off” the list goes on and on. The summer before I started 9th grade we lost our house my family started falling apart right before my eyes it didn’t happen over night or anything but it was still a shock. My mom and I moved into my grandparent’s house in Westminster and my brother moved in with my dad in Arvada in hope that he would fix his relationship with him. Things were going pretty good for a while. The relationship between my dad and me and my brother was better. The week it happened I didn’t see him that much I remember he called me but I didn’t answer. I wish I answered. The weather outside was nice but not warm the wind cooled it down a lot. I was in Mrs. Bashfords math class. I wasn’t that fond of math I never was. I was most likely talking to my friend Salina. Once in a while they students that help the office with passes would come in I didn’t think anything of it because I never got a pass. Usually only really good kids or really bad kids got those passes, but I’m in the middle I’m not great but I’m not bad. There was one red pass and guess what? It was for yours truly. I had to leave my class right away. I made my way down to the attendance office; I took my time because I thought it wasn’t important. On my way down this adult women stopped me and tapped me on the shoulder and said I’m so sorry. That confused me I thought she got me mixed up with another student. When I opened the door I saw my grandpa and my brother and before I could speak, they asked me if I had my things. I said no. So they told me to hurry back and get them. I knew something was wrong now this time I didn’t waste time. By the time I got back to my math class I was on the verge of tears. Mrs. Bashford asked if everything was alright. All I could say was I don’t know. When I got back to the office now I was really crying but I still didn’t know what was happening. I kept asking what’s wrong. I had to say it like nine times before I got an answer. My grandpa looked in to my eyes and said, “Your father passed away”. The odd thing was that the tears stopped I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything I just walked to the car silent. When I got to the car my mom and grandma were crying, still there was no emotion. I put in my headphones and turned up music as loud was I could when we got home I went straight to my room. I told one friend and the word spread like wildfire. Soon my mom told me we had to go to Arvada and start cleaning out my dad’s house. Before we went I had to know what happened. She said your father died of a heart attack sometime yesterday. She said my brother found him. I couldn’t believe it. I feel bad for my brother. I told her I didn’t want to go to my dad’s house I want to be with my friends. So she dropped me off at the school and my friends ran to me saying how sorry they are. Campbell one of my best friends gave me a sticker that said, “Put on a wild smile”. I loved it that was the first thing that made me smile all day. I still have it. Before I knew it, it was a day before the funeral and my dad’s mom wanted an open casket. I waited for everyone to leave before I went to go see him. I wanted to be there alone. When I saw him it all hit me. I broke down in tears so many emotions hit me at once. I guess I had to see him to realize he was really dead. The next day was hard. There were people I didn’t know coming up to me saying sorry. It seemed like the speeches lasted forever. It was the first memorial service I’ve been to. I never want to go to another one. It’s been two years now almost three and I still miss him every day. Things are better now but they still aren’t the same. It seems like this is still a dream and I’m going to wake up any minute and see him again, but I know that it’s not a dream and that will never happen.