ayayayayayay

I wish the last words I spoke to my father were different and, I wish the last things I did to change my father were different. Now that he is left us, I feel glued by the words we last shared, and the emotions that we last destroyed. I now feel a constant ball of anger, disgrace, and disappointment in the pit of my stomach, bubbling up my throat every time I try to speak. The decision Willy made to end his life, no one can comprehend. An unachievable dream, and a never-ending self-succeeding heart infatuated Willy. This dream, which he so dearly cherished, was his motivation to keep pushing, and fighting against the biased acts of society against him.
My father was a man to look up to as a child; Happy did the same. Willy was a man people put their trust in; he was honest, and hard working. A man that had to sell himself to be successful, meaning he always knew what was the best for him. In his later years, my father became extremely difficult to be around. The more I didn’t want to pursue his dreams, the less he wanted to be around me. It’s hard to look at his life through someone else’s perspective, as I’ve only see my one distorted view of my father, of me not believing in the same things, not valuing the same things life has given us. My father started out a great salesman, with dreams and goals. He always told Happy and I how to improve our lives and become successful, constantly referencing his brother Ben, who had walked into a jungle and came out rich. In some ways, you could see that he greatly missed Ben; not as a brother, but as a person to look up to who has achieved their dreams. It scares me to think that Willy would switch his life for something better if the opportunity arose even if it meant leaving us behind. You could tell that Willy’s priorities seemed to have shifted out of place as the years went on. He found more importance in being wealthy and well liked at work and in the world, than he did at home. Willy began I wish the last words I