I Have Proof

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a story about a girl proving that life doesn't last long through her father who has leukemia.

I Have Proof
Just like a pen runs out of ink, his life had run his life had run it’s course.
I could not ignore the sick feeling that was jabbing at my gut. Just thinking about that day made my head ache. Why? Why did all this happen to him? I want this all to go away. Make that day never happen.
He’d had Leukemia for almost a month now, my dad. But after chemo he’d been more normal than he should’ve been. He wanted to do things, go out into the world and run just like before. But he had cancer.
I still remember the day we found out. Waiting at the hospital that day seemed like a prison. We had been there for what seemed like hours, but it was only minutes.
“I’m sorry, he has Leukemia. There’s nothing we can do but chemo since there is no donor right now,” the doctor said, looking straight at me. I remember how much I hated myself for not being a match. He needed not bone marrow, but a kidney. The doctors had found few donors, but none were willing to give their kidney to my dad. My dad! The best guy on the planet. No one was willing to save him.
After chemo my dad wanted out of the hospital. We wanted to believe the chemo would save him, but we all knew that it would only postpone what was really going to happen. He was going to die. We just never thought it would be that soon.
My mom and I would visit him everyday. I hated seeing him in that hospital bed almost as much as he hated being in it. The doctors hadn’t stopped looking for a donor since he was diagnosed. But still no one was willing. I hated the idea of someone thinking their life was more important that my fathers. Then one night I was with my dad at the hospital, refusing to leave when my mother got up and was ready to go home.
“Can I stay with him? Please?” I asked my mom silently. My dad and I looked at her with pleaded eyes. She nodded once, smiled at us warmly, and left. My mom and I are different. She could not bear to be here in his last moments. To watch the love of her life leave her. I needed to be there when he died. To see him, to remember him.
I kissed my dad lightly on the forehead and carefully climbed into bed with him. He cradled me in his arms just like he used to when I was littler. As he did this I thought, “Please don’t leave me daddy!” finally falling asleep for the first time in two weeks.
I woke up in the middle of the night feeling cold and uncomfortable. So I got up quietly and sleepily walked toward the chair by the bed. I sat in the chair and stared at my sleeping father. Hooked up and wired, and he still seemed at peace. God, why did this happen to him? I thought, closing my eyes and drifting into sleep once more. When I woke for the second time, I heard the straight, never ending beep of the monitor.
“No!” I shouted, pressing the button frantically for a nurse. I quickly glanced at a clock while rushing to my father’s side. 5 a.m. I didn’t realize I was sobbing until I saw my father’s shirt was soaked with my tears. I knew it would happen, so why did it hit me so hard? While one nurse rushed in, another had to practically carry me out.
I lost my dad that day. And I was right there with him. Maybe I was meant to be there with him, and that’s why he lived as long as he did. Life doesn’t last long. My dad is proof of that.


Submitted: January 28, 2010

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