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I look up to my father,
as he holds his head in his hands
My lungs don’t fill, my breath hitches.
Someone grabs my shoulder, pulling me away from reality
The floodgates open as I become vulnerable
Crying into the arms of an unknown
A disease that cannot be cured.
He went from lively to barely being able to carry his own sons
He became thin and pale
Sitting in a wheelchair
But he wasn’t afraid to die
Wearing all black, staring into the eyes of a dead man
1 wife, 3 young boys.
They don’t know what’s going on,
They just know that he’s gone
One year later
The youngest boy leaves this earth
No one knowing how, or why.
But that he went to join his father in heaven
They say love stories always have a happy ending
Not this one.
18/F/Christchurch, New Zealand
(18/F/Christchurch, New Zealand)
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