6 months ago, my father died.
4 months ago, I started college.
Today, another day in my strange existence.
As months go by I still remain dazed and confused about what just happened in my life. After my birthday, I expected everything to turn out alright. I expected to walk up on stage on graduation day with a diploma in my hand and being happy that I was finally out of high school on my way to my college dreams where I expected an enjoyable life of self discovery and hakuna matata days. I thought this year was going to be the year I got to experience what it would be like to be an actual teenager. Not the kind that partied hard and came home drunk but the kind that was able to wander in places without limitation and know that there was still someone to go back to in case of failure. Somebody to be there for me through out all tough times and still love me. I thought there would be somebody. But I lost that somebody. And, not so long ago, I lost somebody else, too.
I am what you call an orphan. A person without any parent. A person who has lost both parents. A person who lives on life without parent by their side. A person who is Frank Sinatra, left do it my way. I find it hard to believe that I am what I am at this very point in my life. That word “orphan” is one of the loneliest words I could think of. I would have never comprehended the thought of being a person with no parents at such a age. I do not know if I was too young or just old enough to be left on this earth by my parents. But, I am confident in saying that I would never trade my parents for any another pair. Even if I only spent a number of years with them, I am grateful to God that they were a part of my life and molded me to become the human being that I am today. Amazingly, I have survived this life 6 months without them both. I find it sad that I still have to later accept that there will be so much things that they will never know about the future me. Life goes on, but the pain remains the same. It will stick to my sentiments for as long as I live. Somewhere in my mind, there will always lie this dark box wrapped in chains constantly shaking with miserable memories. When I try to forget the past, I just remember it more. There are certain events in one’s life that may never be forgotten.
Becoming seventeen was one of my biggest mistakes. The day right after my birthday, my father was murdered in a curb right in front of Mother Mary. She saw it all. I do not enjoy talking about how my dad died and how it happened right after my birthday but telling the story over and over again, I start realizing the fascinating ironies of my life. A year gained for me, a life lost for my father. And then the murder of my father right in front of Mother Mary. I do not know what it is. Isn’t it a strange life that I live? I feel as if I am in some very odd novel that compiled unfortunate events and ironies to be experienced by a group of people– being my siblings and I.
I feel weird. I feel like I am part of some kind of book or some David Lynch movie.