i know. you ARE still alive. you’re actually lying down asleep next to me as i’m writing this.
but you’re not there. it’s just your body. alive, but helpless.
i remember when you used to take me for long drives upstate and we’d go to those undiscovered antique stores. on the way home we’d stop by a small café and get apple cider donuts for the way home.
and sometimes you’d take me to an arcade or carnival where we’d secretly waste all the money mom gave you to spend. I’d come home with a huge stuffed animal you’d have won for me.
I’d tell you everything. everything my mom or friends wouldn’t know. things about my personal life, about school, and about my dreams. you’d remember all of them.
you were my best friend.
but it all changed when you got a hernia operation in your stomach.
the doctors discovered cancer in your stomach.
and it was there for quite a while.
this left you immobile, not able to do the things we used to do.
i still talked to you like i should. i kept telling you everything, and i kept telling myself there was hope. and that it wasn’t so bad.
but another month passed. you were getting worse.
much worse. you can barely stand, and we had to bring a visiting nurse almost every day to make sure it didn’t get too bad.
but it is.
the last day you were mobile, you talked to me about death.
the last sentence you told me was
“I’m gonna miss you, little bear.”
you called me that since i was born.
now, you can’t do anything with me. you can’t walk. you don’t even talk anymore. and when you try, we can’t understand you.
I’m scared of you.
you scream and cry in pain every day, and it scares me a lot.
I’d go to my room and cry and cry in the corner.
I’m at the bottom of everything now without you.
and what kills me inside is that you’re still here.
you’re still here, but you hate every second of it.
you’re still here, and in the worst pain i could ever imagine you in.
i don’t want you to die.
but we all know and understand the time is coming fast.
but you’re here for now, and there’s nothing i can do for you.
and that’s why I’m writing this to you.
daddy, i miss you.
Your little bear.