Thoughts from an Unknown.

Well, I have been feeling strange lately and for a change I know why. I miss him. I miss my dad. It’s that time of year again and I knew it was coming. Yesterday was the anniversary of his death. It’s been eight years since the night when my life fell apart. I don’t really know how to describe it to people who don’t know. To me, yesterday was like the eight anniversary of my world ending. That’s really what my father’s death was to me. That day is the reason I am athiest. That day is the reason that I don’t have hope for the good anymore. That day is the reason I have no regrets. I don’t know how to talk about it so I will put in a paper that I wrote for class in instead.

The Day the Faith Died

It was a crisp, cool November night when my life changed forever. The leaves had engulfed the front lawn and beneath the screaming, their slight rustle could be heard. I was eight years old and stubborn as a mule. That night, I wanted my way and I was determined to get it, not thinking of the consequences. Blowing, the wind grew louder outside, my voice raised inside. As the heartbeats increased, the time left with him grew shorter. I wish I had known that nothing would ever be the same after that night, that it would be the last I would ever spend with my father. That night would be the last night my father would live.

The night of November 19, 2000 is the more vivid memory I will ever have, the only night I will remember for my entire life. I can still feel the cold, smooth dials of the phone under my fingers as I called 911 in attempt to save my father’s life. As he fell back onto the living room couch, where he was previously seated, I felt my heart drop through my stomach. His breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, as was mine. My chest began to tighten with panic. I could barely get up to tell my mother what was happening. My only device of communication was a series of sobs and gasps for air. As the minutes slowly ticked by, I could feel my grip on reality slowly slipping away as if it were grains of sand within my clenched fists. I just couldn’t believe that I was watching my father die, that there was nothing I could do.

The last time I ever saw my father alive, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home, watching the men in blue suits load my father into the ambulance where he would take his last breath. I couldn’t imagine my father dying in a metal cage. My mother refused to let my brother and I come to the hospital with her. She demanded that we stay with the next-door neighbor until the time came for us to go to the hospital. As I lay silently on an unfamiliar couch, all I could do was play the events of the last few hours in my mind. To this day I ask myself, “What was the last thing I said to my father?’ and , “Will I ever forgive myself for causing the argument that ended my father’s life?’ I still don’t have the answers to either of these questions and I hate that.

The next few hours of that night were a whirlwind of tears and whimpers of guilt and regret. As the night slowly turned into the next morning, I was taken to the hospital to see what was left of my life. I got my answer when by walking into the cold, painfully white room. My father’s lifeless body was in a clean, white hospital bed with tubes of every color running from his arms. My mother’s body was crumpled in a chair, her arms seemed to be glued to her face, she couldn’t even look at me. The only thing I can remember hearing for the next week was my mother’s voice saying, “They couldn’t save daddy, he’s gone.” I remember that night as clear as the sky was the next morning. The next year was a blur of detention, envelops containing the words “I’m sorry”, anger, fear, tears and meaningless condolences. To this day, I cringe when someone says that they are sorry for my father’s death. I will always have the slight feeling that I should be the one apologizing, that it was my fault.

My father’s death will always be the most significant event in my life and it will always play a factor in making a major decision . People used to tell me that I had a twinkle in my eye that made them sure that there had to be a “God”, that there was no way there could be a little girl like me without “Him”. The day my father died was the day that twinkle died , it was the day that my faith died. Every now and again, looking in a mirror, I will think of my father and imagine that maybe I can see that twinkle, the one I never saw, but it’s always an illusion. The only thing I can hope for now is that I can live a life that would make my father proud of who I am and proud to say that it is because of him.

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I don’t know any other way to make people understand how I feel right now… and this is just the beggining. I have years and years of built up anger, fear, guilt, and remorse inside of me. Everyday is a struggle for me. It is so hard to know that somone like me, who rarely does a good deed without a reward is still alive and someone as amazing as my dad was can’t. I don’t understand why he had to die. People always say that it was “god’s will”… Well, I don’t give a fuck about that. I need a better reason. I need a REAL reason. To me, god’s will is saying I don’t know and I want you to stop asking me. I am done with all the godly excuses from people who don’t even know the difference between Jesus and God.

I don’t know how much longer I can sit by and act like I am okay, that I am always okay. I want releash all the the emotions that I have held in for so long, but if I did, I don’t think I would know what to do. They are something that I have had for so long that it is almost comforting. It’s nice to know that SOMETHING will always been there.

I just like to say sorry to all the people that I have ever let down now. All the people that I have hurt, it was never intended. I’m sorry. I really am. I would also like to thank the people who have been there for me (mainly Krissy, Wesley, and as of late… Travis) I don’t know what I would do without you guys. Your amazing and I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You are the reasons I wake up in the morning, the reason I keep taking breaths. You three are the only thing that has restored some hope in me that the world isn’t all bad and that one day, down the road, I will smile and be genuinely happy. I love you guys <3 Your the best things that ever happened to me.

R.I.P
Robert Bruce Moulding
11.12.51 – 11.19.00
You will always be loved and greatly missed <3