Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

I was a smart, but shy teenager whose mind was filled with outrageous ideas and thoughts. I was 17 and believed nothing bad could ever happen to me. I lived in Alma Michigan with my father and his loving wife- my stepmother-,Michelle. She was an exuberant woman who loved everyone and everything. One weekend in late January of 2007; while I was away at my friends, I received a phone call from my father.
"Brent......Michelle is dead," he wept, "I don't know what happened. I went to give her coffee and she won't wake up!"
My father's voice sounded as if he were choking, and couldn't breathe. I was helpless. I didn't know what to say, or do, but i answered back, " Are you okay? I will be there as soon as I can get there I am on my way. I love you dad."
There was an issue that unexpectedly exhausted Michelle's innocent life. I was instantly determined to take care of my father, and do my absolute best to provide comfort through all of his pain, and the seemingly endless emotions.
 When I pulled into the apartment complex my stomach started to churn like a cement mixer. My father walked up to me with his head down and squeezed me until i could hardly breathe.
The only thing he said to me was, "I love you Brent. Please don't leave me."
I couldn't even speak because i was crying uncontrollably. I squeezed him back, and he knew that meant i wouldn't leave, and that I loved him too. A few days went by, and fear gradually overtook my father's conscious. Major depression started to settle in; he was afraid to live and wanted to be with Michelle again.
At Michelle's funeral he had already acquired a ghostly presence. He was pale and noticeably malnourished; however, most people didn't know he was abusing prescription medication including myself. He had already begun to slowly eradicate himself. It was hard witnessing this, and because my father was prescribed those medications it was a struggle to acknowledge it first-hand.
My father and I became closer than we  had ever been. We shared stories that made us cry like colic babies, and stories that filled the room with laughter.
One day, when we were about to sleep my father asked, "Brent are you awake? I just need to tell you something."
"Okay dad, you can tell me anything," I replied.
"Don't look for any woman to make you happy, wait and she will find you," he crooned.
I replied, "but dad..how will she find me if I'm not out looking?"
"Me and Michelle found each other by coincidence," he happily cried, "neither of us were looking for someone else necessarily, it  happened and it felt right."
I loved seeing my father smile and it brought elation to our apartment that night. The next morning when  i awoke, i seen my father sitting in his chair, drinking his cup of strong black coffee,  watching a pre-recorded Law and Order episode while he waited for me to wake up.
"You should go hang with your friends, and do what you want to do for a change," my father said, "besides, I need some time to be alone, and to think about life."
"But you are my friend dad, and this is where I want to be," I argued.
"You are my friend too, but I really just need some time alone," he muttered.
I panicked inside, and i was unsure of what to do. I tried to delay for as long as possible, but regardless I had to respect his wishes. I felt something wasn't right, yet I proceeded out the door.
"Goodbye dad," i whimpered, " I love you and please answer the phone when I call!"
"I will, but Goodbyes are forever, so I will see you later," he murmured as he hugged me tight.
"Ok," I stated, a little more relieved.
2 days went by and i called my father every other hour since the moment I had left, and spoke with him everytime I called; Not very long conversations, but enough to know he was ok. Late the second night I called, but there was no answer.
 After what seemed like hours of pacing my friend's living room and calling back-to-back with no answer I decided I needed to go home and make sure he was alright.
It was a cold dark night on March 3, 2007 when i arrived at our apartment door.. I was being punched in the face by an endless number of emotions, and a nauseous feeling grew within me. It was if I was entering a place I had never been, and didn't want to be. I walked in and saw my father sitting in his chair as he always would..his head tilted to the side as if he were sleeping. The television was off and silence surrounded me. As i approached my father my intentions were to wake him, and just hug him because I didn't want to worry anymore. I grabbed for his arm to wake him, and what I felt was a cold stiff statue. 
From that moment on I have not been myself. 12 years later and I can finally talk about what I went through. I lost touch with a lot of people and a lot of my love and passions. It takes everything I have every day to accept this tragedy, but I instantaneously acquired a purpose to learn and live for myself. It wasn't until my son Aiden was born that I finally understood some of my father's lessons. The greatest one being how to take the bad things that may happen, and become a better and stronger man from them and to not be afraid to ask for help when it is to that point. I do not blame my father for what he did and I am not mad at him for it. But I would not and could not ever put my children or my family through the grueling pain I felt and still feel right now knowing I can never bring him back. 
I obtained the power to accept life beyond his, and to use what he has taught me to live it. My father died, but in doing so is leading me to triumph. I became a man  because of my father. And he was the best man I  have ever known.
I love you dad, and to my family-- I am trying my best to live up to the man  I want , and he knew, I could be.