A Journal of Writings - SABES

MY FATHER’S DEATH MYRLANDE ISRAEL
Myrlande Israel
I never thought one day I would see myself fall into the darkness, I never imagined one
time, one day “this thing” would open my door and take the person who represented my
center. I used to see bitterness, rage, and tears, fear on people’s faces, but now I
understand it’s because it’s not so easy to think you’ll never, ever see this person again.
I’ve explored this pain deeply, and I know what it is.
We were four in this family: my mother, my sister, my father and me. He was a hard
worker, and he sacrificed himself and his dream to give us a better life. Ludovic was his
name.
I was at work when my cell phone rang. It was my mom, and her voice trembled as she
said, “Your dad fell down this morning after you left. I’m at the hospital. I...I...oh honey,
the doctor said he needs surgery immediately! He’s cancerous.” Come on! Not my dad!
He goes every day to the hospital, he takes his medicine all the time, he does everything
they say, but now, why couldn’t they see that before? Why? Why? A few days ago we
played together, and he was so happy! I ran to the hospital, and my mom was completely
devastated. She had no place to stand. She was praying and crying at the same time, but
we could understand that because my father was everything to her. He was her first love,
and they knew happiness and they shared their bad moments, he always had something to
whisper in her ear, and they joked all the time. When I saw my mom then, and I saw that
picture in my head, tears rolled down on my face.
Five hours later, the doctor came and said that my dad didn’t make it, his heart just
stopped. My mom fell on the ground, and suddenly I felt my blood just boiling. Every part
of my body exploded, and I kicked the door violently. I saw my father’s body lying on the
bed, and at first I thought he was sleeping and the doctor had lied, so I ran to him I touched
his hand -- that hand which every morning gently woke me up -- and I realized definitely
he was gone. We were never going to hear his voice or feel his presence, his passion for
life and his love, because he was gone. Our life was so empty.
If I knew it would the last time I was going to see him, I’d hug him more than every day,
I’d take the year to enjoy every moment, every minute, every second with him. If I say I
love my father, I make a little mistake because “love” isn’t strong enough to describe what
my dad meant to me. He was my heart, the best part of me and everything.
Sometimes when I need comfort, when my pain is too much, I just feel this breeze envelop
my soul, and at this time I know he’s here, and he’s alive inside of me. I can smile and I’m
ready to keep going in life.
Immigrant Learning Center
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