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It's the strangest thing you'll ever hear, but I wish I could see him on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.
My father passed on well over two years ago. He took his life at the end of a silver bullet to the head after taking the life of his beloved. I remember waking up that day, to a call from my second step brother. Calls from him were never for no reason.
I remember how cold I felt when I answered, and how harshly my world came to a stop as he spoke to me. My body had gone frigid, shaking, spiraling as I mumbled through trembling lips "Tell me this is a cold joke"
Everything after that was in and out of the strange trance I was under, fading in and out of reality as I made my way to the scene. I remember how long the walk through the closed off block felt ans how my world swayed. Cops shouting left and right at pedestrians, camera folks surrounding like hungry vultures, and all the staring eyes watching me go through.
I remember walking up to the front of the house, only to be greated by my first step brother, torn and somehow standing.
A cop would pull me for questioning soon after, then days later I'd come back for my stuff. Days after that, a viewing. That was probably the worst part....
"Make a decision before his body decays"
"Your dad is sitting in a freezer. What do you want to do?"
I decided on a viewing.
One thing was losing someone that meant the world to you, another was having to see them laying in a coffin, drenched in make up and the awful smell of foundation and the embalming fluids. It's a stench that burnt a horrible memory in my nose. I can smell it even now.
To see their face so... Wrong. To have even gotten dressed up or to have so many folks surrounding... There were pastries and coffee, but hell if I even brought myself to drinking a single cup. To see a few fake folks making an appearance, an insult. The stiffness in the air and in the people, the apologetic faces, the crying faces of men so strong breaking down the way they did. To brought to his side and dare to hold such a cold hand; A hand once so strong, it could crush and dent metal and kind enough to shape art...
It wasn't him. It was like this horrifying human doll.
Was he angry, I wonder, that I decided to see him once more, stuffed and dressed? To have him sitting in a room of people m only half of really cared...? To have so many of his friends and family in pain? I chose to burn you the way you wanted, but you never told me if you wanted a viewing....
I guess you left that up to me.
But if I had to make a different decision, I would have chosen to have you and your beloved laying in hospital beds, hooked on tubes, fighting for your lives and from different reasons. What I would give to spend nights by your bed side, losing sleep, missing classes and having to explain to my professors, watching your recovery, and holding your warm, callused hand...
I hate hospitals, fear them, but I would have...
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