When I entered middle school’s first semester, what was supposedly a very happy moment, turned into an unforgettable one. When my father’s life was on the line, yet I was still unaware.
Time passes, and slowly my father’s disease gets worse. Starting from just a simple tooth pain, my dad wanted to pull out his tooth. Yet, my mother didn’t let him. Regardless, he did it in secret, his life would also be changed.
During the first semester, I would always come home to see my father skinnier and smaller. Yet, he would always be working. My heart began to expand as I only continued to worry about him. Sometimes, he would just stare into space and 40-50 minutes would pass. My father moved from our small local hospital to the Kunming Hospital. There, he seemed to slowly recover but even then, the doctor had given up on curing his cancer. When my father came home, I saw several relatives surrounding him. They were whispering words of love and encouragement, yet, he seemed to be in a far away place. I walked towards him slowly, seeing his stiff body on the bed. He was no longer the always working, compassionate father I had known. My heart felt an indescribable pain; I didn’t want to let go of him. I held his cold hand tightly and still found security. I was scared he was going to leave me. He was struggling to breathe and I thought that he must have had some unspoken desire to say before his death. Only his eyes produced the emotion he felt; tears slowly rolling down his face.
On the third night, the clock of life stopped. 9:16 pm. He had left and somewhere in the world, someone else was born. I rushed out the door and stared up at the night sky, shouting “ba”. My companion of 12 years had left me.
On the fourth day, more people came to my house to say prayers and bring warmth. I decided that I would make my father proud. My english teacher and class leader also gave me words of encouragement. I directed my pain and sorrow to my studies. At night, I would always try to comfort myself. To be strong, to not let pain hold me back. My father, the active hardworking man he was, would’ve made it through the pain too. I often couldn’t hold back my tears, yet I would never make a sound. Scared that my classmates would hear. Scared that they would look down on me. Every night, I fall asleep with the hope for a better tomorrow.
Now, I am in ninth grade. My father has been gone for more than two years. I truly am proud of making it through the darkest times. I can not change the fact that my father is no longer here. But, this won’t always be bad. I’ve learned to be strong. Though there will be failures, I will never give up. In the present and future, I will not only live for myself but also live for my father.
