The Inceptive Flame⎪✓

❨46❩

♀︎

My eyes sting by how much I've cried today, it's almost midnight. In a few hours all the seniors will be preparing for an insane graduation day and party, their smiles will reach their eyes and the only worry will be how to match shoes to the hideous graduation gowns. It feels unreal that I'm sitting in my dad's hospital room, trying to get my breathing under control from the immense pain torturing my body and soul. 

It has been hours and I can't fucking breathe, his eyes are zoning in and out. He has been asleep for hours, sometimes he even stops breathing completely and I fear he has left me then. Doctor Wilson told me that my dad will be awake at some point before he leaves me, apparently he knows. It's too difficult and I want someone here with me, but no one is here, no one will ever be. Dad is the only one I have left and his life is slowly leaving his eyes. 

Suddenly he shakes, heaving and fighting for breath. I'm there immediately, grabbing his hand in mine I'm terrified by how cold it is. His grey eyes meet mine for two seconds and a deep sob rocks my entire frame, crying over his body. He doesn't deserve any of this, he deserves to grow old and be a grandpa, he deserves to die happily in his own home when he is old and has experienced enough. This is horrific. Pure torture.

"I'm sorry, baby. Please breathe," His weak voice suddenly begs, it takes a lot out of him to talk. I can barely understand what he's trying to say. 

Looking at the one man who has loved me from the minute I came to this world, the man who hugged me whenever I screamed out during a nightmare, the man who's seen me at my worst and at my best, but loved me unconditionally through it all. Seeing the dark circles surrounding his grey eyes, how his usual broad frame is shrinking into nothing. His skinny cheeks, with no trace of there ever being a color. He looks completely broken, nothing about him is familiar anymore. Not recognizing your own dad like this, it feels like my heart physically breaks and I hyperventilate by the pain.

I can't control the thick drops trickling down my face, blurring my vision, allowing me to pretend that this isn't truly happening. If even for a minute. My dad isn't truly laying on this hospital bed, he isn't truly slipping through my fingers without me being able to hold on. He is at home, cooking dinner for me and my mom, preparing us for another board game. My dad is at home! He is not here!

"Kota?" He whispers, breaking my egotistical trance.

My eyes meet his as he tries to clutch my hand to his chest, "I love you, dad."

Feeling the need to say it, a burst of pure pain blossoms in my chest, I should have said it more often. Why the hell did I never tell him those words? I have always loved him and he deserves to know, so what stopped me from screaming it at the top of my lungs? The realization that his breathing slows down registers in my mind and I'm quick to focus intently on his pattern of breaths, clutching his hand tightly.

"Dad? Please."

"I love you, my baby," His hoarse voice slips away and grows quieter, he is leaving me.

"You're so strong, dad," Sobs torture my body as words try to leave my lips, nothing I can say will ever be right in this situation. My dad is dying, with me right by his side he is dying and I can't do anything to prevent it.

The only safe place in my life is leaving me, unintentionally, but he will be gone. I won't be able to talk to him again, he will leave me. 

A doctor steps into the room and sees me sitting here, he leaves his clipboard and sits down on the chair I'd just been occupying. "You shouldn't be in here alone, Dakota," He says, his tone indicating that he feels sorry.

I don't look at him, not wanting to tear my eyes away from my dad, "I can't leave him, I won't."

My peripheral vision shows me Doctor Wilson, he nods his head sadly and looks at my dad, clearly accepting that I want to be here when my dad officially leaves this world. My dad was there when I took my first breath, it's only right for me to be here when he takes his last.

Looking down at him his eyes are open and meet mine, I squeeze his hand a little. A small smile slips onto his lips, before a scarily deep and desperate breath leaves his body. The inevitable is going to happen now, I know it, but nothing in the world could ever prepare me for it. I have witnessed him screaming in pain until they gave him shots upon shots of painkillers, I have seen him cry in despair over the fact that he can't live on with me.

Sounds bring me back to reality, as his grip on my hand painfully tightens. He is gasping for air and heaving desperately trying to pull in oxygen, but not being able to. I sob and clutch my eyes tightly, not able to watch it. The doctors prepared me and told me that death rarely is as peaceful as a small breath leaving, usually their body will try and fight to survive. But at that stage, the person behind the body, the soul, is long gone.

His grip on my hand loosens and I know what that means, I'm not stupid, but right now I wish I was. It would have made everything much easier, it would mean that I really hadn't lived through the death of my father. 

Looking at him I try to remain calm, the excruciating pain tears through my flesh and slices at my heart. His eyes are open without any indication of life behind them, he is free of his pain, but how fucking unjust that he had to leave this early and this horrible way.

My dearest dad is gone, he is dead.

He can't feel a thing anymore, he won't ever be able to again...

********

I'm sorry, I'm crying...