have you ever been heart-broken?

Dear father.

you've been sick.

you haven't always been

but you were.

for a whole two weeks I knew about it

and I held on to hope

for as long as I could

that you would live another twenty years.

Just like you told me

(never lose hope! Life has it's ways of surprising us with gifts.)

Twenty-second of March.

And it took twenty-two seconds for reality to sink in

When the monitors stopped whirring and beeping

And when the silence started to pierce my ears

And your heart just...

stopped working.

You were lying there,

An unmoving, fading person

that wasn't really a person anymore

instead a memory.

I didn't cry.

Should I be sorry?

The nurses looked at me like I was crazy

You were just gone

and I looked as if I'd already moved on

But you'd understand me if you were alive.

I am the oldest, after all.

I take the head of this family now.

Now that you're gone...

I couldn't cry

because I wanted to be like you.

the infallible, hopeful, supportive figure

that was always there for us

and my brothers need that now.

but you aren't here.

We're full grown adults

We have stable jobs

our own families,

but

even after all three of us grew up

even after we married

even after we moved out

we still needed you

I still need you

but you aren't here.

Is it my fault?

That I didn't check up on you enough?

I could have done better.

You might have lived if I did something.

However far fetched that sounds.

It was pneumonia,

not a sudden death at all,

but I still feel guilty,

like I could have saved you.

In the end,

when your lungs filled for the final time

and the tubes couldn't drain fast enough for you to breathe

and you were coughing

and drowning in air

you looked like you were in pain.

maybe you heard me

maybe you didn't

but I told your heart to

hold still.

Maybe then

you would finally be at peace.