The Loss

Losing sucks. But losing "someone" in your life is a different story. We have all lost a soccer game or a game of monopoly with friends, but losing a loved one is hard, especially at fifteen years old. This story is a true story about how I lost my dad. It will make you laugh and cry.

Sit back, relax, and get ready for the emotional roller coaster that was life.

My dad was my best friend; we did everything together. We would go to the store, go out to eat, go to the bookstore, and go to his store that he owned. He owned a sign business and made signs for other companies. He taught me how to cook, how to drive, how to use the computer and all these neat computer programs like Adobe, Illustrator, Microsoft, etc. It wasn't until I was around twelve years old when my world was shaken up. My dad was working in his store late one night. He had just sent home his crew for the day. He was still working on the computer and building signs. He had sat down at his desk to eat his eggplant parm when he knew something wasn't right. He started getting this sharp pain in his chest and his arm was hurting. He wasn't sure what was happening. He couldn't breathe. Was he choking? Was it a heart attack? Was it a stroke? He fell out of his chair and couldn't reach the phone to call for help. He knew he had to dial 9-1-1. Still in so much pain, he crawled over to the phone and dialed 9-1-1. He was, indeed, having a heart attack. When EMS arrived, he was immediately brought to the hospital where they put him on a blood thinner for his heart attack. Minutes felt like hours to him.

My family got a call in the middle of the night saying to come right over to the hospital. They wouldn't tell us why but just that we needed to come. I wasn't sure what was going on. I immediately thought of the worst thing possible and thought he was in a car accident or worse. When we got there, they took us in the back, but wouldn't let me or my sister in the room. I was crying, swearing, saying I wanted to see my dad. The nurse told me to "calm down" and I would get to see him in "a little bit" after my mom saw him. I kept wondering "what could be going on?" What was wrong with my dad that they wouldn't let me or my sister see him? I was kicking and hitting the nurse, running down the hall trying to find his room. I called her a dumb bitch and told her I wanted to see my dad. Security came and told me if I calmed down I would get an ice cream cup. After about ten minutes of a meltdown, she brought us to his room. He was hooked up to a bunch of machines and I still didn't know what was wrong. After getting to spend three to four hours with him and no one telling me what was wrong, we headed home (I still didn't get my ice cream cup). My dad had to stay overnight.

When we got in the car, my mom told us that dad had a heart attack and when they put him on this "special medicine" (blood thinner) they found a tumor on my dad's brain that the medicine made bleed. I was twelve. I didn't know what any of this meant. I just kept asking if he would be alright and when would he come home. All she said was "soon."

Weeks after being released from the hospital, we all sat down and dad told us what cancer was. The only idea I had at the time was that it was a "sickness" that could "make you go to Heaven." I immediately cried. After they explained that he was going to get treatment for it, I felt better.

Months passed and my dad was in chemo and radiation treatments. He started losing his hair and losing a ton of weight. I knew I had to spend every chance I got with him. He would pick me up after school every day and we would go to Walmart or Kmart and hop on the handicap scooters because he couldn't walk and ride around stores in them. Sometimes we couldn't get through the aisles with the scooters, so the racks would fall over. We would pretend to pick them up and keep driving. We would find balls from the ball pits and throw them over the aisles to each other and see who could get it in whose basket first. After we destroyed the stores, we felt obligated to buy stuff. We would buy unnecessary things like huge chocolate bars or stuffed animals or weird sunglasses. We made memories together. My sister would tag along, too, but she was so embarrassed she would go sit on the display swings that they set up for your yard.

A few more months passed and it was 2011 and I was fifteen. It was August. My dad was rushed to the hospital once again. I just thought it was because of his medicine acting up again. At 8:05 PM, my mom called us both into the living room of our house and closed all the doors and windows. She said something no fifteen-year-old wants to hear. "Your dad just passed away." I immediately broke down crying. I ran out the door and down to the other end of the street, crying so loud I couldn't control it. My friend came outside and didn't have to ask what was wrong to know. More neighbors came outside and asked if "it was my dad." They all knew, but I didn't expect it so soon. I lost my best friend that day. My mom wouldn't let us go see him because she didn't want us to see him that way and didn't want that to be the last memory we had of him. I hated her for not letting us say goodbye, but when I look back at it, she was right to not let us see him that way. He was surrounded by all my aunts and cousins and godparents when he passed away. He knew we loved him and we loved him, too. My dad will forever be my guardian angel and, to this day, I still do some of the things that we used to do together, like destroy Walmart with my sister or practice my computer programs and even practice my cooking (sometimes burn things, but I will get better). :)

Life didn't come with instructions. No one told us the right way to grieve. I didn't write this to make anyone sad. I wrote this because life isn't promised. I wrote this because I wanted to share the funny, happy memories I had with my dad. And I wanted to share this because it's okay to not be okay sometimes. Don't take life or friends or family for granted, because no one can predict the future.

Thank you, everyone, for the love and support!

—Olympia