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Death is an inevitable reality of life no one should have to experience, especially that of a five-year-old, yet everyone does. My friend’s death has been by my side for seventeen years and counting, like two peas-in-a pod he sticks by my side.
I was your typical five-year-old little boy who enjoyed every aspect of life, it was a great life I lived after all; Mom and Dad did everything imaginable to ensure I had what I wanted and needed. I loved playing with my guns, action figures, and cars with Dad; RC cars were a hobby of both of ours. I remember my dad vividly, a strong hard working man with olive color skin, a former helicopter mechanic for the U.S. Army, and a well-rounded guy overall. I must have loved him I’m sure of it, why wouldn’t I? I know my mom sure did, they were inseparable.
They had big dreams and aspirations in life. They envisioned life on the family farm with a nice home and more than enough room for me to go wild, which I was no doubt, hell on wheels in fact. However, dreams are just that… dreams. They are not guaranteed or promised.
I was five years old when our world came crashing down; Mom got the phone call that everyone dreads, my father had died in a horrific accident at work. I don’t remember much but I know that I didn’t grasp the concept of what “death” meant. I would frequently stare out the windows and ask Mom, “When is daddy coming home” to which she would reply, “he’s not sugar, he’s in heaven helping other little ones.” My mom however couldn’t cope with the loss, how could she? She was left behind with three boys, five, eight, and eleven years old. We watched her fall apart, literally. She was always a youthful woman, with caramel-colored skin, and the most beautiful dark brown hair there was. But as time passed, lines formed in her ageless skin; and she took to the bottle. My grandparents took us in for roughly 2 months while mom sunk deeper and deeper until one day, she put the bottle down and decided to get her life back in control, the best she could anyway. She moved forward in life fulfilling their dreams alone. She sold the townhouse and moved us to the farm where we raised goats and eventually sheep. I feel like making the move helped to heal our broken family the best it possibly could. I try to follow in my father’s footsteps of being a great man and often wonder if he would be proud of me. I make mistakes in my life as everyone does but it’s how you learn and grow from those mistakes that define your character.
Mom recently shared some photographs of my dad and I with me that I had never seen before, they mean the world to me now. I was such a bright-eyed little boy, young and innocent and naïve. I found beauty in the smallest of things. Dad was my go-to guy if I ever had questions because he always had the answer. As a five-year-old, one never thinks about death let alone grasp the concept but that all changed. I not only lost my best friend but I lost my parent too. I had a plethora of questions but no one to answer them like Dad could. So I learned on my own and began to answer my own questions. I learned that life is not to be taken for granted and that tomorrow is not promised. Always tell the people closest to you that you love them so they’re not left wondering how you feel. Out of all my regrets in life, missing the opportunity to tell someone I love them will not be one of them. I prematurely lost my dad but gained a lot in return. I don’t have the option to have him back but I do have the option to live life to the fullest, laugh often, love others, and make every aspect as valuable as possible. If Dad really can see me, I would want him to know, that I learn from him every day and that my questions are still being answered.
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