I woke up one day and it was seemingly-average morning for a 14 year old getting ready for school. However, my dad was feeling sick so my 13-year-old brother and I decided to stay home and watch over him as my mom went to work. I’m glad we got to stay home, because if we hadn’t, my dad would’ve been on the floor in pain, waiting for medical help alone. When my brother and I saw him, I told my brother to call my mom. When my brother went to get a hold of her, she called 911.

Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived. One paramedic checked my dad’s pulse while two others talked on the phone with my mom. My brother and I sat in the living room while another paramedic talked to us, but I’m wasn’t paying attention. A multitude of thoughts filled my brain as I came up with every scenario that could happen.

Is he going to die?

My dad has diabetes and bad hearing from working on airplanes. He has multiple health defects and he knew he wasn’t going to live long. This reality was difficult to accept.

All I want to do is help him.

When we went to the ICU, he was hurt badly but refused to show it. He wanted to be strong for us, but my concern grew further.

This isn’t the first time he’d been hurt before this. He walked up a tall ladder to fix the top of the plane but tripped on a step and flew down. The fall caused him to become paralyzed. I would stay the night with him while he healed and although it was a frightening experience, I knew this time was different when I overheard the nurses talking about him.

He lost most of his memory from the medication they gave him but never forgot his mother’s birthday or mine. I never thought I would spend my birthday in the hospital, but as long as I was with my dad, I knew I would be OK.

On March 19, 2019, my mom pulled me early from my seventh period and sped down the highway to the hospital. We were going to say our last goodbyes to my father.

When we got to the hospital, there were about 30 people, a few I haven’t seen in years and some I’ve known my whole life. Only immediate family were allowed in his room so my brother, sister, mom, aunt and I went to see him. 

He looked worse from when I last saw him. He was pale, frowning and kept his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Later that night the nurses let more people inside the room to say their goodbyes because they didn’t want my dad to suffer. Finally, they decided to make the decision I’d been dreading for so long.

Pull the plug.

For a moment he is gasping for air, relatives and friends walking up and holding his hand, telling him to forgive them for their sins. When it was my turn, I hugged him and went to say my goodbyes. He startled me when he gasped for air, but I just smiled and told him “I love you dad.” I struggled saying the words. The nurses came in a bit after to check his pulse.

“10:37.”

Everyone started to cry, but the shock or realizing didn’t hit me, leaving me confused until I realized.

He died.

When I caught on, I felt my stomach drop. I started to cry, leading to a panic attack that lasted until we walked back to the car. I fell asleep in the backseat of my mom’s car, heading to the place I was dreading the most. My home, where all the memories were. 

After my dad died, my mom wanted to move because there wasn’t any purpose living in that house, so we moved near my grandma and my mom’s best friend. Moving made me a bit happier, but still sad because I was leaving my friends behind just to make other friends. It does help that people around me know what happened, but sometimes I do have to mention it. It’s a bit easier to talk about it now than before. At least I’m not crying myself to sleep in my father’s bed anymore because I’m happy again.

It feels nice to finally be happy.

I have to admit I was scared of high school at first because my dad wouldn’t be there to tell me it was OK. He wouldn’t be there for prom or the father-daughter dance at my quince. But at least he’s not in pain, so I’m happy for him. 

He taught me lots of life lessons and I guarantee if he wasn’t a mechanic for American Airlines he would have been a teacher for math or history. He got me into reading tons of books and made me good at math. The little things do matter, so take advantage of that as long as you can because you won’t regret it. I love him for that.