Today, May 7th, 2007, would be my father's 51st birthday. I hope he knows that I miss him...
Happy Birthday, Daddy! cheers;
Happy Birthday Mr. Lozal's dad. woop;
Quote from: helter skelter on May 07, 2007, 06:13:28 PM
Wait, what happened to him?
lol copypasta from other thread
Okay. Imagine that you are a three-year-old, with a perfect life.
So, I am a three-year-old. As happy as can be. I am living my wonderful life in a house with my mom and dad. Well, my dad was late from coming home from work. This was because he had a doctor's appointment. He apparently had neck pain. That's why he was late. So, when he came home, he was tearing up. He told us that he had cancer. Lymphoma. He was going to die. I didn't realize what cancer was. I was fine with it, and lived my life like nothing was wrong.
Then, my grandpa died of cancer. This frightened my dad. It also placed a lot of stress on him.
I was now four. My mom was smiling so much one day. It was because Daddy's cancer had gone away! He was now in remission and was getting better! I was indifferent about the whole thing, because I didn't realize the dangers. I lived my life as a happy four year old, when we found out that my grandma had emphysema. Daddy was then very stressed, which caused the cancer to come back, with a bang.
At this point, I was 5. My dad received chemo and radiation to help with the cancer. He was so sick that he couldn't even make and pour a glass of his delicious chocolate milk. He was sent to a treatment center in Maryland. We lived there for a week with him. It was fun.
When we got home, I started going to kindergarten. I was so ecstatic on the days when Daddy would come with Mommy to pick me up. Then, came the dreaded days.
During Winter Break, Daddy got very sick. On Friday, he couldn't eat. On Saturday, he couldn't go down the stairs. On Sunday, he couldn't get out of bed. On Monday, Mommy found him dead.
I woke up that day just as I would any other day. I went downstairs, and said hi to my mom and my aunt. My mom was crying. "Your daddy's dead." was all that she could mutter. I didn't cry. She took me upstairs to see him. I hugged him, but I was scared to kiss him. It was scary.
Then, after we buried him, my grandma died. I didn't cry either.
We then moved away from Virginia, to a better place. I never saw any of my friends again. I don't have many friends now. I never went back.
When I was 6, I had a reality check. I realized that Daddy was never coming home. I cried. And I still do to this day.
What caused my depression was me blaming myself for his death. The self-mutilation and suicidal thoughts started after the depression.
He doesn't know you miss him, he's dead and fully decomposed. cheers;
Quote from: Lawlz on May 07, 2007, 06:37:20 PM
He doesn't know you miss him, he's dead and fully decomposed. cheers;
Thanks for being so positive. I happen to believe in an afterlife, so STFU.