Time flies

Seven years ago...

I was driving in to work with my beautiful baby girl in my back seat and got the call from the hospital..."You might want to come here soon..."

I dropped her off, told my work and went in.

I held his hand. I begged for him to hold on for my sister. I begged for him to see that I was there. I held his hand...

He died. He was tired. He had had enough. I held his hand. I screamed and cried and I waited for my sister and my aunt to arrive and I held his hand.

I didn't want my sister to have to take his hand and it be cold. I didn't want her to look into his lifeless eyes so I closed them. I cried.

Through it all, and all the shit that happened afterwards I never hated my sister. I was just glad that I was there for him and knew in my heart of hearts that she couldn't have handled the gasping, the choking and seeing the light go out.

Unfortunately people will show you who they are most in times of grief and pain. I should have known then and accepted it and left her out of my life. Too bad I didn't.

Today I cry again. Seven years and I still miss him and his shitty attitude. I miss him loving my girl, and am so broken that he never met my other two. My son, my joy and my baby girl. They never had a grandpa.

Seven years and it's like it has happened all over again. Did he see me? Did he know I was there? Did he hear my voice telling him I was sorry and that I loved him?

Daddy, I miss you.

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