The Truth about Me

When I was a Kid-Part 3

We are going to skip a little farther into my life, my every day life as a three year old consisted of going to Miss Shelly's, my Nana's or going to work with my dad. Nothing really exciting happened until I was about four years old, and that is where we will start again.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Milbrath, but your husband is dying. We can do no more for him here, we are sending him home, he has a higher chance of recovering if he is in his own home, but it is still very unlikely." The doctor told mom as she wiped a tear away.

"So you are telling me that you are sending my husband home to die?" My mom said, looking the doctor in the eyes.

"Yes ma'am," was all he said as he signed the release forms and handed them back to the nurse.

"What are we going to do?" Mom said, breaking down in one of the hospital chairs.

"Mommy, it'll be alright, daddy is strong." I said to her, holding her chin up so that she would look me in the eyes.

"Thanks sweetie," mom said as she got up. 

We walked in silence towards my dad's room, they were pushing him out in a wheelchair and he looked awful. They had taken all of the ivs and the other tubes they had put in him. For a man that was so big and strong, he looked very small and weak, as if someone had taken his body and replaced it with another man's body. This man was not my father.

The nurse rolled him out to the car and helped him get into the passenger side, they clicked the seat belt into place and then the nurse left. Mom went around the car and got in the drivers side door, I buckled myself up, latching the buckle and waiting for mom to drive home. The drive home was quite and tense, I knew my dad was dying, I had been watching it happen for the past four months. Hepatitis C. It was awful, there were five men emitted at the same time dad was, only two were still alive. 

The pastor that came to dad's room every day said that because dad had faith, he would make it farther, he was stronger because of who he had inside of him, but I didn't know what to believe. I just wanted my dad to feel better. 

Once we did get home it was a struggle to get dad in the house and then into his bed. Mom did most of the work, but James and Cj both tried helping, I just stayed out of the way. Once dad was in bed he was so worn out he just went to sleep, mom then proceeded to cook supper and clean the kitchen. James and I were fighting over who had to pull the weeds in the garden and Cj was messing around on the desktop computer.

We all knew mom was tired, but we were just little kids, what were we suppose to do. Cj was the oldest, but she was only ten, she helped in the kitchen after meals and was able to fold laundry. James was only sixteen months younger than Cj, so that means that he is nine, and I am five years younger than James, which makes me four. We all tried to help, but we didn't know what to do, our dad was dying, our mom was burning the candle at both ends and it felt like we were losing both of them.

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"Kids supper!" Mom called into the backyard.

It was the fourth night that dad had been home, he hadn't changed for the better, he had actually gotten worse, he was now in a coma, but the doctors said that that was normal. He wouldn't respond to any of us when we were talking to him, he barely swallowed the water that was given to him on a spoon. Mom tried to stay optimistic, but it was hard. 

We all knew that she was pregnant, her hair was darker than normal, the dog wouldn't let us near her and she was having some pretty weird cravings. Mom knew that she was pregnant and she knew that she was working to hard, but that night after supper we knew that she had run herself down to low. We heard her scream, and then cry, Cj covered my years and told James to get the phone. Cj called our Nana, who came right away. She took mom to the hospital and Papa stayed with us. He tried to play games with us, offer us sweets, he tried reading to us, but we all knew what was going on. I didn't understand what happened to the baby at that time, but later Cj explained to me what had happened, I knew that our daddy was going to die and go to heaven, just like our little brother had. 

That night Cj tucked me into bed, telling me that it would all be okay, but I knew she was lying, and I knew she was scared. We all were.

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The next couple of days my mom took off work, she stayed home with dad and I, taking care of dad and laying down every once in awhile to get some sleep. Whenever mom would lay down I would go down to my dad's room and sit on the bed next to him. He would just lay there and I would hold his hand and talk to him as if he could actually hear me. One of the days that mom was home she called the school and told them that she would be coming to pick Cj and James up early. She knew that that was the day that she would lose her husband. She left me at home with dad and said she would be right back, and like I had been for the last couple of days I went and sat on my dad's bed.

I looked at him and cried, I didn't want to lose my dad. As I sat there I remembered what the pastor had said one day about dad being stronger because of who he believed in. So I took my dad's big hand in my little one and I looked to the ceiling, and I said, "If you are real God, and you care about little me, would you please make my daddy better? Please?"

I sat there after that silently crying, on tear falling off my chin right after the other. I sat there like that until my mom came back with Cj and James, we all sat on the big bed, just sitting there. Mom asked us to leave so that she could say good bye and then we could come back in. The three of us filed out of the room and than sat on the steps next to the door, waiting for mom to tell us we could come back in. We sat there for what seemed like forever before mom came out crying, but not sad tears, happy tears. She just smiled and told us to go into the room, which we did, only to see our father sitting up against some pillows, drinking from a glass that he was holding.

We all ran over to the bed and gave him a big hug and told him how much we loved him, and silently, in my head, I promised to be the best daughter I could be so that my dad wouldn't ever get sick again. 

Author's note:

Thank you for your support, this is a very emotionally trying book to wright, but the story needs to be told, it needs to be heard. Happy reading.