Sunday, Apr. 11, 2004 | 9:39 p.m.

Its Not The Same

I've been thinking alot lately about my childhood during which my father was alive. To be honest, i can only remember bits and pieces of it. I remember always hiding from my grandfather in the same exact place every evening when he'd get home from work. Im sure he always knew where i was hiding. I remember how i used to always play video games with my grandmother and how i would always eat lucky charms in the morning for breakfast and watch the Care Bears. I would go to the bed at 8 i think and i would wait for my brother to fall asleep and then i would get up and watch Swamp Thing with my dad. I also remember the time my brother and i got our power wheels and i always pretended that it was a real car lol. *Sighs* Theres alot of things i remember... like the time i was learning how to ride a bike and the time when my brother and i got a swing set and the times when we would go down to our other grandmothers house and eat cookies and drink sodas.. shes dead now... i didnt get a chance to go to her funeral.. i havent seen her in very long time...probably about 6 years or more. .... Theres alot of memories i have from those parts of my childhood. But none of them stand out as much much as the ones from my fathers death..I remember every part of that day and the days after the funeral..especially when my brother and i were suppose to be asleep and we would listen to my mom cry during the night.. and when she would come in to check on us, we'd always ask her when daddy was coming home.. i look back now, 12 years later, and know that it must've killed her to hear us ask that question... sometimes when i see or hear an ambulance sirens, i get sweaty and clammy and i have flashbacks of that day..the gunshot sound, the blood, the school being locked, my brother and i being rushed into a small room, my teacher helping my mom, the ambulance, my cousin driving us somewhere and my brother and i looking across the street as we left and seeing the ambulance and fire truck there...thinking about it now makes me feel sick to my stomach....a few years after his death, when we were with our grandparents, we'd always go to his grave with flowers in our hands.. i would always lag behind, walking slowly as the wind blew through my hair and when i reached his grave, i would stand there and stare at my last named carved into the granite. Sometimes my brother and i would ask questions like when or if he was coming back and theyd respond with something like he's asleep or you'll understand when youre a little older... i still think that my dad comes into mine and my brothers rooms while we're asleep to watch over us.. my brother and i used to see a shadowy figure walking up and down the hallway and i guess that was him.. but we havent looked in a while...but i know he's still around.. Sometimes i think i see him while im laying in my room and sometimes i think i hear his voice while im asleep.. sometimes i even smell his cologne in the mornings..sometimes i think i see his face in the clouds...sometimes.....My graduation is nearing and it saddens me to know that he wont be here to watch me get my diploma.. even though he'll be there in spirit, its not the same as if he were here in real life.

Its just not the same...

< | >