"how are you"
shitty.
"do you wanna talk about it"
what is there to talk about.
"is there anything i can do."
please change the subject. please.
"are you ok"
...
that's the worst thing you could ask
am i ok?
no
i'm not
of course i'm not.
I'm not ok
because i stood in that hospital room
and i watched my mother look at the nurse
and i saw the light leave her eyes
and i heard the hope leave her voice
as she told her to take him off life support.
Of course i'm not fucking ok
because i was pulled out of math class
and i walked alone to my locker
my thoughts racing with worst case scenarios
my heart hammering, my breath shallow
even though i was just standing still.
Of COURSE i'm not fucking ok
because my aunt met me in the lobby
saying she had to take me to the hospital
because he "wasn't doing well."
OF COURSE i'm not fucking ok
because on that 16 min drive to the hospital
i got a phone call from my mom
she was strangely calm
telling me i had to come "say goodbye"
and i felt my aunt take my hand
as the first wave of pain hit
as the breath was knocked out of me
as i tried to make sense of the world that was so colorful two seconds ago,
my brain trying to figure out why everything is gray now.
OF COURSE i'm NOT fucking ok
because upon arriving to the hospital
i ran to the bathroom and called my best friend:
"hi channaleh"
(sobbing) "hi sigali"
"oh my god anna what's wrong"
"my dad might die and im hiding in a bathroom and i don't know what do"
"oh my god"
...
"please come. i need you".
OF COURSE I'M NOT fucking ok
because it took my best friend an hour and a half to get to the hospital we were at
(traffic is shitty)
in that hour and half, i said goodbye to my dad
i told him how unfair it was that he had to die
how unfair it was that i'm losing him at 14
how unfair that he wouldn't be at my graduation
or my wedding
or that he'd never get to hold my kids
or that he'd never find out what'd happen in the new star wars movie
i told him all of that
even though i knew he couldn't hear me.
OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING ok
because everyone keeps telling me
"i heard he's been sick for a while"
"i knew he'd been diagnosed earlier this year"
NO
YOU'RE FUCKING WRONG
HE WASN'T SICK
48 hours before he died, he was fucking healthy as ever
he went through all the fucking chemo and radiation,
never batted an eye, never waivered, not for a second
HE WAS SO FUCKING HEALTHY
HE WAS DOING SO FUCKING WELL
AND IT ISN'T FAIR THAT HE GOT A FUCKING BLOOD CLOT
SEVEN DAYS AFTER HE WAS COMPLETELY DONE WITH TREATMENT
he was gonna be fine,
said the doctors, said my mom, my uncle, my aunt, my best friend, that fucking nurse.
said me.
SO OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING OK
because now, i hear my mom crying every morning
and no one knows what to do with his car,
or his office,
or his hideous hawaiian shirts that he wore religiously,
or his laptop,
or the tea that we have in our cupboard that only he would drink.
and i don't know how to put up the christmas lights by myself,
and my mom doesn't know how to remove the flash drive without deleting anything,
and my uncle doesn't know which lane to drive in on the freeway,
and no one knows how to make it better.
not like he did.
so fuck you,
for asking if i'm ok.
for saying:
"you'll get through this"
"things will go back to normal"
because NO, i won't get through this
this isn't like a breakup
or getting fired from a job.
he was my DAD, do you understand that?
MY FUCKING DAD.
so no, i'm not ok.
stop asking me.
please.
