Home alone

Essay by Afzal7864u February 2007

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"Oh Dad, why did you leave me?" I was sobbing violently, choking out the words. "I loved you so much, come back, Daddy, please!" I was sitting in the cemetery next to my father's grave. The words on the tombstone, "Peter Thomas Davis, Beloved husband and father' glared at me, confirming the truth. The terrible, harsh truth... my father was dead! It was completely unbelievable and up to this day, I can hardly believe that I Jessie Peter Davies, was in this world without him and that I would never see my father again. It was heartbreaking and I was totally shattered. It had happened two months previously and yet the whole incident was fresh in my mind, as if engraved by an invisible pen. It was eating me up inside and I was barely surviving. I can remember every single detail that had happened. After all, it had taken place in front of my own eyes...

It was a day like all others. School was as boring as ever. Mara and Vicky teased me mercilessly and I had obtained yet another F in Maths. However, when I got home, I found a note saying that my mum was out and that Dad was to arrive from work soon. I was home alone. I was not home alone very often and so the idea was thrilling. Should I make myself a huge, dripping peanut butter and jelly sandwich or should I prank call Vicky and Mara? I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the driveway gate open. It was my father, arriving sooner than I expected. Peering through the window I saw my father's shiny black Daimler enter the garage. A few minutes later, a white Toyota with tinted windows also entered the driveway. I didn't recognize the car or the number plate. It looked very suspicious to me.

I watched as my dad came out of the garage and I saw the look of surprise on his face when he saw the car. I felt scared and then my eyes opened in shock and total disbelief at the sight in front of me. Two men got off the car and were holding guns. To this day, I still remember every detail about the men because I had been questioned thoroughly about them by the police. Both were wearing black pants, black leather jackets and black caps. The taller man had a long, sharp nose and a scar along his jaw line. The short, fat man had his long hair tied in a ponytail and a mole under his eye.

Without wasting time, I raced down the stairs. My heart thumping rapidly, I picked up the phone and called the police. I gave the details and they assured me that they would be quick. I had just put the phone down when BANG! I heard a gunshot, a scream of a pain, then another gunshot. Without a moment's hesitation I ran to the door., threw it open and ran outside. As the picture entered in my brain, I let out a scream of pure anguish and terror.

There in front of me, my father was lying on his back, eyes widened, blood rushing out of his wounds. I felt panicky, scared as I rushed to him and tried to find a sign that he was alive- a heartbeat, a pulse rate, anything... but there was none. My father was dead! My father was DEAD! My father the kindest, compassionate man I had ever known. My father, the greatest neurologist of Kingstown. My father, the man I loved so dearly. He had died. He had died and left me. He was gone. Out of my life, out of this world.

It took me a couple of minutes for the news to set in, but when I realized that my father was really dead, I began to weep uncontrollably. Tears coursed down my cheeks, blurring my vision. It seemed to me that hours had passed, when the police arrived with my mother and family. The rest of the incident passed in a blur. Going to the police station, answering questions, my dad's funeral, meeting my relatives. I hardly remember anything, except that every time my dad's name was mentioned, I began crying. Sometimes I felt even guilty for my fathers death. If only I had phoned the police earlier, my dad could still be alive. I could not sleep for many nights after that. The picture of my father's dead body lying in a pool of blood was etched in my memory...

I looked around me, taking deep breaths to control myself. I looked at the bright sun, at the clouds scattered in the blue, blue sky and I felt a sense of inner peace. I remember my Dad telling me that whatever happens to me, my life must go on, and that I must be the best person I can be. I realized no matter what happens to me, even though my father is not around, he will always be inside of me, a part of which will never die. I remembered all the time I had shared with him, the happy and joyous moments we had spent with each other. I loved my father and will always love him forever. I know that I can go on living without him. I will survive. And I know that he will be proud of me. Then I realized that I was smiling, there were tears in my eyes, but I was smiling- the first time I had smiled in a long, long time.

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