Arriving at the top of the stairs, I stand at my Parents’ bedroom door and pictures flood my mind… how we loved to jump on them on a Sunday morning, first thing in the morning… and the snowball fights we had in the winter…the laughter and happiness we was allowed to experience. I place my hand on the door trying to calm myself down before I lightly push the door.He is laid there, peaceful, and still. I walk closer but can’t even see where I am going because of the tears. Pulling the chair from the corner right next to his bed so I can sit down calmly. For a moment , I avoid looking at him and just take in how silent the room is, but my eyes come to rest on him, looking at his chest, hoping there is some kind of movement and it was all just a bad dream. Still in denial… I came back to save them, not to watch my very own father to be killed.Careful I grab for his hand but he already feels cold and foreign, not at all how I
Last Updated : 2021-07-27 Read more