I waited and waited, hours for the arrival of my father. All I did, was stare out the tiny window of the living room, waiting for his small blue truck to roll into the driveway. Hours earlier I had learned that there had been plane crashes at the twin towers, terrorists had hit them, and I learned, my dad was at the scene, to help get people.
You see, my father was a fire fighter, as soon as it happened, he was called out. We haven't heard from him since.
I soon saw my dads best friend pull into the driveway, and dashed out to see him.
"Is he okay?" I asked.
Hurt and sadness filled his eyes, and he shook his head. I felt the tears streaming down my face. Hoping it wasn't what I though it was.
"He's gone Lily, I'm sorry, he's gone," He sad, choking up.
I threw my arms around his waist, and he held me. My dad was the only family I had left. Everyone else was either in jail, or dead. I never thought my dad would die. But he died a hero. And I know that's the best thing he would have wanted; him to die as a hero.
They didn't find his body, but we held a funeral anyways, and a few weeks later, went to the memorial. Living without my father will be hard, but I can manage.
I wish this never had happened, because of some terrorists, but he died saving lifes. I know he's watching me. And I know that he couldn't be happier.
