I was about 9 and I had a friend over so of course we were being loud and such, when in the middle of the day my dad (who worked graveyard) came out and politely asked us to go to my room and be quiet, but I didn’t think anything of it. Later that night, we were still up and running, bouncing off the walls, and just causing a ruckus. Once again he came out and asked us, this time in a stern voice to quiet down. This got me all worked up “my friend is over we should be able to have fun”. When he was ready for work as he walked out the door he shouted " I love you Jon!" and being the stupid immature asshole I was I said just loud enough for him to here "yeah right" and I could tell he heard. He sighed, closed the door, and drove off.
I woke up earlier than normal the next morning and saw my grandma sitting in the chair across the room. She ushered me over and said in that sweet, gentle, grandma voice "Jon....your dad....he had a heart attack at work last night. He and your mom are in the hospital now..." I froze for about a minute...then I burst away bawling, and running to my room. I held myself tightly to a stuffed animal he gave me a cried and cried and cried. Thinking how the last thing I told him was "yeah right" and then cried more. Later my grandma came in and told me that later that day we would be able to go see him. So I went out and sat with my two brothers. We hugged and tried to reassure each other “he was always tough, he can make it out of this" but no one felt any better. We paced, we’d fake a smile at each other, and even tried cleaning the house to pass time. Finally we went and saw him.
I saw him hooked up to all the machines and just lost it. The toughest man I’ve ever known, Mr. ex-Marine hardass, was laying helpless on the bed. He had even broken both the equipment and a tooth trying to get un-hooked. I ran to my mom and started crying. We sat around for a while and eventually I had to go home. But every day I would go back to the...
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