See You In The Morning
“Goodnight, love you, see you in the morning,” that’s what my dad and I used to say to each other every night before bed; but, I didn’t see him in the morning.
“See you in the morning,” had become a promise that we’d be seeing each other the next day. That all changed in March of 2010. I was eleven years old when my dad decided to go out with his friends on March 19, 2010. I was laying on his recliner, and my little sister was on the couch watching High School Musical with me. My dad came up to me and told me he was going to meet up with some friends, I told him to promise me not to get too drunk; even though I was young I knew what could happen if you drink too much because of what TV had shown me. He promised me and then we said a prayer, goodnight, love you, and see you in the morning.
When I woke up I was in my bed, I don’t remember how I got there. It was in the middle of the night when two police officers showed up to our house and woke up my mom. She had received the news that my dad was hit by a car and didn’t make it. My little sister was the one to wake me up to tell me. I couldn’t believe it.
The night my dad went out he ended up getting separated from his group of friends. He was the victim of a hit and run. The medics said he died instantly, which I’ve been told is a good thing, he didn’t feel pain. However, shortly after his death I read Looking for Alaska by John Green and this passage really stuck with me.
“What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.”
John Green, Looking for Alaska
This quote has stuck with me because, how do we know if he felt pain or not? Did is whole life flash before his eyes when he died? Did he have any last words? Did he know what was happening? Did he think about anything? We don’t know anything and we’re just stuck here with all these questions just like Pudge was when Alaska died. How long is an instant death anyway?
It has been 10 years since my dad passed away. 10 trips around the sun without seeing my dad. I started middle school without him, I started high school, got my first job, went to prom, had my first boyfriend, and graduated high school without getting to be in the presence of my dad; I am going to college where he went, I had my heart broken, and I met the love of my life. My dad didn’t get to be there physically with me as I started all these new chapters in my life, he doesn’t get to meet the man I am in love with, he won’t get to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, he won’t get to dance with me at my wedding, and he won’t get to meet my children. Having to say goodbye to someone so soon is the hardest thing to overcome. I miss my dad everyday and knowing that he won’t be here physically for big moments in my life hurts me. I don’t cry as much as I used to, the pain kind of gets numb after a while. But knowing he’s always with me no matter what I do definitely helps with his loss.
The last thing I said to my dad was “Goodnight, love you, see you in the morning”. I’m glad I told him I loved him, but I wish I could’ve seen him in the morning.
Alex Rymer 