could not even be mad at anyone but myself.
I mean, I came from this man’s dangly bits for Christ’s sake! As I look back now I realize that I probably even gave my dead/dying father a kiss and told him goodbye in his last moments. And when I say I told him goodbye I don’t mean goodbye as in ‘I love you Dad, rest in peace’, but goodbye as in, ‘be right back Dad! Man I’m hungry!’ as I ventured off in search of the hospital cafeteria in order to get some food suitable enough to be called breakfast.
Honestly I couldn’t even tell you how the ride on the elevator with my younger sister and aunt went. I don’t even remember. It’s almost as though if something monumental happens to you, you only remember the really juicy, important details but pray to God no one asks you about what color your shoes were or what you ate for breakfast because you wouldn’t be able to remember. Trust me. But if you forced me, I mean really forced me to remember all that I could about the elevator ride I’d tell you that I knew something was off. It was my aunt. Something about her smile just wasn’t right. Even as a little kid I was sharp and I could tell something was off about the way her smile looked. But I had just chalked it up to pity clouding her smile just like it clouded everyone else’s.
But you don’t always remember the so called “little stuff”. Take me for example. I kiss my father goodbye, leave his room with my sister and aunt in tow, locate the illusive cafeteria and sit down and eat something. Eat something. I don’t know why my lack of remembrance as to what it specifically was that I ate that day bothers me so much but I feel like I should remember everything. And I don’t know why but I really want to say it was eggs that I ate that day in the cafeteria… or something in a little package. The longer I sit here and try to remember the more the image of the food on my plate that day switches. Now I think it was fruits. Yes, fruits. It definitely might have been...
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