Sunday, December 6, 2015

Fighting for the Vision pt. 3

My uncle came to speak to me and the sound of his voice was too similar to my dad's that I immediately turned to him and cried daddy but it wasn't him. The veil that covered my face got darker as the time went by and my dad didn't come out of the hospital. I sat in the car not desiring to enter the building not desiring for people to see me so shattered. The ugly dark side of me that was left vulnerable without my dad there to protect my flaws. My auntie finally got me out of the car and helped me to enter into the hospital. The lights were bright and people were everywhere. I couldn't take the light shining on me as I entered the room, but I was too sad to hide my vulnerability. I was too hurt to play pretend like everything was okay and even though I was physically there, my mind had left the building. I sat in a chair by myself to blind to look anyone in the face and I don't know why when my Tourettes act up I can't remember who people are and it hurts to look them in the face. I sat going insane wanting my dad, needing him, my heart felt crushed. I sat crying asking for my dad, where was he. I just wanted my dad, a simple request. People tried to speak to me, the pastor available to speak tried to say he was praying for me but I didn't hear anyone, as a matter of fact, I covered my ears with my fingers and repeated that I wanted my dad. The veil remained heavy and everyone was invisible. Pain comforted me and shoot everyone else away. I sat in the chair going insane and as I had to endure sitting in a chair with no physical cover to block out the pain I didn't want anyone to see. As I waited in the chair hoping to go through the procedures of saying my final goodbye, it never arrived. I'm not use to going to a hospital and the family being called to sit in a chair. What the hell did they bring me there for to sit in a bright light and be judged for not being able to keep it together. Oh, I knew that the walls of what I once knew had just came crumbling down. My dad didn't just die but my support system, friend that I had gained, and the reason why I was able to keep it together was gone. Wait, what, my dad is gone, he isn't coming back, no impossible, I don't believe it.

I could no longer sit and wait, I started crying even harder. I felt humiliated and I didn't understand why they thought it was okay to pull me through the torture of telling me that my dad is no longer here, to send me to a hospital full of people, and yet no give me one single chance to say goodbye, to hold him, to tell him to wake up, to lay in his bed, to kiss him, to touch him. I needed my dad was that so hard to understand. They couldn't have me in the hospital crying my heart out and pleading. They pushed me in a wheel chair outside to try to talk some sense in to me, to drill into me that he wasn't coming back. Yes, I didn't get comfort, love, I got insensitive bitches telling me to pull it together that my dad isn't coming back and I can't see him. Heartless people that didn't understand my desperation. What the hell did you bring me to the hospital for if you weren't going to let me have my moment. I could have died in the darkness of my home where I found out. You wanted my children to not see me hurt then go and get my dad and wake him up. Come and get my children and take them away from seeing my madness but do not expect me to be a mom when at this moment I am child without a father.

not my image

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