Dear Father

"Dear Father"

I was your first born, but certainly not your last. You had two other children, my sister, and my brother. I learned I have three half-brothers too. You didn't tell me that before your last breaths, I had to be informed by one of my three half-brothers when they came to visit. I knew -- correction, we all knew -- your final days were coming sooner than we wanted, but I didn't expect it to be so sudden. One day you were smiling and we were holding a conversation, the next you were on the floor, a cold dead body unable to speak. You can't speak when you're dead, I know that. However, there was a part of me that wished you'd rise from the floor and hold me in your arms again, telling me it was a prank or it didn't truly happen.

But, you can't choose when you lose someone you loved with all your heart. The one thing I did choose, however, was to sit in my room day in and day out. I chose to separate myself from the family I so loved, and I paid the price. Nothing is worse than losing someone you love and realizing the time you didn't spend with them. I'll never forget that.

Dear Father, it happened in 2015. I was only thirteen. I wonder if you were watching me when I came home, calling your name as I searched the front half of the house. I expected to hear your answer, for you to say "I'm in the back" as you always did. This time, that wouldn't happen. When I finally arrived at your room and saw you on the floor, my whole world flipped. It was in an instant that you were taken from me, ripped away from a family that felt broken to begin with. Now, it was destroyed. Damaged beyond repair. Your death snuck in quietly. It made its way through our family, separating the roots we had planted. We started losing interest in conversation, started closing the doors we vowed to keep open. The love we once had for each other disappeared. Yes, we agree that we love each other dearly even if we can't be with one another in the same room for more than five minutes, but sitting in rooms alone doesn't show it. 'Actions speak louder than words', after all. I guess our true intentions are based upon that fact. At the end of the day, we might say our goodnights and give our bedtime kisses, but our family will never be the same. I'll continue to hide away in my bedroom while the rest of the family are scattered around the house. My brother and sister are glued to their computer screens. Mom is always watching the television. What do I do? Well, as I said, I sit in my bedroom. I'm just as bad as the rest; I have to admit, I'm addicted to my computer as well.

This was the last thing you wanted from our family. I let you down, I know I did. I'm the oldest, I should be helping mother when she needs to get the bills paid and I should be setting the example for my younger brother and sister. Should is the keyword.

There's something else I should have done. I should have interacted with the family, especially before you passed. Now, look where we are. Lost in piles of trash and clustered rooms filled with everything we don't need. For what? Why did it happen?

It's because you're gone. Without you, we have no order in the household. Overlooking this house with these people that I can't even consider family anymore: it's painful. I blame myself for letting it get this way. Of course, it doesn't help that I sit in my room all day. I shouldn't have let the depression and the grief take over, just as I shouldn't have let time go by so quickly.

Dear Father, everything is a mess. Sometimes I think our situation is getting better; we have grandma and grandpa to help mom get organized or to keep the house clean for just one day at the least. Other times, I know we're wasting time. I'm wasting time sitting in my room, staring at videos for hours on end. I've always regretted learning this habit; learning to hide away from all of my problems has made it all worse. Regret. Regret is the exact word I think of when I'm reminded of the past; when I'm reminded of the time when you were alive and what I didn't do with you, that's what I regret. You only had one life to give, just as all the people in the world only have one chance. I only have one chance to make memories and collect the good ones.

Dear Father, I hope you are doing well. I miss you more than ever now that you're never coming back. I miss you.

We miss you.