Dad

The first time I ever saw a man die, I was seventeen.

That man was my father.

He had fallen the previous day. Really, it was nothing unusual. Charles Earl Stewart was given to accidents. The many strokes had left his body weak, his mind weaker, and a moment's confusion was by all means normal. He had once climbed on the roof and been unable to get down. In the scheme of things, a little fall was nothing to be concerned about.

Except it was. There was no moving on from this. He had fallen to the floor, and simply couldn't get back up. As much as his muscles my strain, try as his mind might will, he couldn't rise. It took the combined efforts of my mother, brother, and I to drag him back to the bed. There he laid, as weak as a newborn. He could barely move, six feet of fragility. 

It was obvious Dad couldn't take care of himself. Mom debated whether she would be able to work anymore. There was no way we could afford a caregiver. There was no way we could afford to give up her job, either. The future was so terribly uncertain.

We all fell into a fitful sleep.

It didn't take long for it to be interrupted. "Wake up! Your dad's dying!" screamed Mom. It only had to be said once. We flew from our beds and into his bedroom, frantic feet for what we had long feared. We had expected this moment for years, but never knew how it would come.

I never expected that my father's face would be blue. Not a white or light grey, but an actual blue, the color of frozen skin. His eyes were wide, his hand was shaking. He seemed to reach out to me, to someone, wanting help or just someone to hold him as he passed. I took his hand. It was the only thing I could really do. Tears ran down my face as blood poured out his mouth. He tried to speak, but there were no last words for my father. No heartfelt advice or well wishes. No moment of clarity before the end. Not even a shout of disapproval.

The blood choked down everything.

It's the first thing that popped up in my mind, so I wrote it. A ten year old memory, for the readers. Maybe that'll immortalize my dad. Give him an added bit of life that he lost over a decade ago.

I'm near completion with the second draft of the novel. Then it goes out to alpha readers, and we've got this motherfucker on the road.

Looking forward to that.