Like most people, I too thought I'd get married someday. I'd imagine my wife walking down the aisle looking beautiful. I knew she was beautiful, I just didn't see her face. I imagined my parents laughing with champagne in thier hands. Not the expensive ones, but the ones they decided to give up thier weekly visits to McDonald's on.
Of course, this was when I was ten or eleven when I went through thier wedding photos. Everyone in those pictures looked so happy I could almost feel it out of those faded faces.
Now I do know there ain't no damn wedding. Not that I want it. And not everyone in a wedding is necessarily happy.
Dear reader, when was the last time you were happy?
As for me, I do not remember. Maybe, as I go on writing, I might remember it.
I miss my mother. I miss her so much. Why aren't all human beings mothers? It makes no sense but just......well, I guess not all mothers are nice either.
I was in my geography class that day. Mrs Henry called me to her office and told me my mother was in the hospital. She told me my mom was in an accident but that she was okay. I just needed to rush to the hospital. Just needed to rush.
Mrs Henry drove me there. But when I got there, my mom did not look at me and tell me she was fine. And my dad looked like he was the one who died.
They say people who have died go to a better place. But what better place did my mother had? We were her better place. Humans lie. They lie to comfort themselves. But why do I not hate it? I want to believe there was a better place, I know there wasn't, but I will force myself to believe it.
My dad didn't come home that day. He didn't cone home for a week. I went searching for him all around town. I tried to file a missing person's case. But the officer said he'd seen my dad and he was doing good. He was someplace where a fourteen year old wasn't allowed to enter. So, I waited for him.
He did come back but he wasn't my dad anymore. He returned back a monster. When my mother died, she took away all the happiness that was our family. And my father made sure of that .
He came back drunk every night to the point where I could not stand the stench of alcohol. He would force me out the door telling me to bring back mom. He would tell me not to return unless I did it .
I would sleep on the porch and when he opened the door in the morning, he looked like a stranger to me. He was not my dad. This was not the dad I remembered.
