I remember when i first found out, it was almost like it wasn't real.
The next morning i woke up and i just layed there in bed.
Hoping the night before never happened.
Hoping that that feeling in my gut wasn't real.
Hoping that those words i heard my mom say were never said.
I hoped that that my dad actually called and i still was gonna see him that day.
i smiled at the thought.
then i started crying.
It was a weird feeling.
To lose hope.
To spend your whole life working for something, and have it taken away in 30 secounds.

I was sitting at my grammas table having dinner a couple nights later and his picture came on the news. It might have been the worst minute of my life, watching that girl talk about my dad like he was Hitler and she knew him first hand. I remeber wanting to knock her face in but instead making a joke to my family. Something like "oh good theres dad on TV" in a real childish voice. Anything would have been better then to have my brother with that baby dear watching his mother being killed look on his face.
He wasn't like me, his emotions shown through no matter how strong he tried to be.

I still wonder what that news girl would of thought if she knew my brother 11 years old and me, 13, his two kids, just watched her give that report.

But at the same time i have to think about the girl who died and her family. I hope they don't wish bad on us though.

I got that same dream like feeling almost every morning for the next few mounths.
Hope didn't wanna give up on me. It slept with me. And it woke up with me. But it never stayed.
Eventually it kicked in. Reality. And it tried to stay. I learned i didn't like reality. So i made my own.
Sometimes at nights i'd play out different scenarios or i'd daydream in class.
One night i came up with the idea that when i woke up i'd be in the hospital.
It would be the last time i saw my dad, but instead i'd warn him about what was going to happen.
I'd tell him i knew he was still using cocaine again, and that he was going to kill this girl.
And that he was going to regret it forever. I'd make sure he didn't do it.
I'd tell him whatever i'd have to.
Then i'd get him checked into a metal physility or a really good rehab center.
I'd stand by him through it all.
Me and my brother would grow up with a stable father and end up good.
I'd go on to be happy, and i'd never tell anyone that i went back in time to save him.
I asked God so many times for this.
I prayed for him to reconsider it.
I think about how ridiculously childish this is.
How unrealistic. How stupid.
It's funny though, because i would still ask him the same thing.

Other times i wish i could just remeber the last time i saw him.
Because when i look back i just see blurrs of memories.
The worst part, i don't remember saying goodbye.
I just wish sometimes i could have known enough to say goodbye.


I prayed for a dream about him, just so i could see him.
So i could say goodbye.
I had a dream about one month after his final court appearance.
Me, my brother and him were playing a board game in my grammas house,
He started to act funny and he said he had to get something out of the car.
He looked at us real sad and walked out. Me and my brother followed him and he started walking quicker. Everything went silent. All the sudden we were in the doorway, everything got foggy.
My dad got in the car and pulled away. I knew he was going forever.
I ran after him screaming.
Screaming his name.
Screaming for him to come back.
Screaming im sorry.
Screaming i love him.
It was snowing, and the ground was covered with it.
The last picture from my dream i see is me standing in the snow and i see footprints.
My dad never came back.

I never said goodbye.

I woke up crying and clutching onto my knees like a child.
Because when it comes down to it, thats what i was.
A child.
Praying the world would give her another chance.