Passed away

02/04/14

The second of April, the day my dad got "diagnosed" with depression.

My dad had been home for a solid two months now. He didn't work, sleep or eat. He just sat on the couch and stared outside. My mum made smoothies for him, so he would at least get any vitamins inside his body. The thing was that I always found them back again somewhere in the fridge and then I'd drink them or either throw them away if they were out of date. My dad would always smile at me, I guess he was thankful. My mum never noticed and just lived through the days, until the second of April.

I came home from a day of school and normally I would find my dad on the couch again. This time he wasn't there. First I was just calm and searched around the house, but I couldn't find him. I rang my mum, but she didn't know a thing either and said she would be home within ten minutes.

When she came home we stepped into her car and drove around our hometown. He was nowhere to be found.

"I don't want to say this or even think about this, but maybe he's at the train-station?"

"What would he do there?"

I remained silent. I was terrified of what he was able to do. Everything is getting too much, for me, for him and for my mum. Even though my mum didn't understand what he would do at the train-station she just drove there. When we arrived I stepped out of the car as quick as I could and ran towards the train-station and when I was inside I saw him. He was sitting on a bench, in his pajamas and staring in front of him.

"DAD!"

I ran towards him, mum following, and I took his arm.

"You were not really thinking of this, were you?"

I started crying and everyone walking by stared at us. I pulled my dad of the bench and led him to the car. I sat him in the backseat and closed the door. Before my mum stepped into the car I said that we needed to go see a doctor.

"Mum, seriously. He needs it! Don't you see how he ruins his and ours life? It's been enough, I'm done."

When we arrived at the doctor my dad had to take a lot of tests. The doctor knew what was wrong, but had to wait until the results. I knew it as well. He was struggling with depression.

"You better go home, you look exhausted. He needs to stay the night and we'll call you tomorrow. It'll be alright."

That's what the doctor said. I wish I had believe him, because when you keep faith in something it will happen someday. I feel sorry I didn't believe enough in my dad. Did I feel it? Feel the fact that he wouldn't survive all of this? It's so hard to think about what would have gone around in his mind. He was always the strong man who kept our family complete. He told me to stay strong even though life was unfair sometimes. Still I know his deed wasn't anything selfish. Everything happens for a reason. This did as well. But what reason?