Gone for Good

No matter how many times she does it, I always say it’s fine. My little sister’s just upset about this that and the other. Or how Dad just had to leave on deployment. I try to see her perspective. I’m six years old. My dad just left, and didn’t come back. No matter what she breaks, I still love her.

It’s been three months now. My sister is more calm now, but I sometimes come in to tuck her in and find her crying. Every time I sit next to her and hold her in my arms. She needs her sister. She needs someone to be there since Mom is working all the time. Heck, so am I on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. I only work seven to three, so I never miss her when the neighbors drop her off at home. She does her schoolwork there, and I take care of her until bedtime. I like it though. It feels good to be the big sister.

Only a week until Dad gets back. My little sister is so excited to see Dad again. I’m counting down the days too. I went to check the mail. Only one letter. I opened it and began to read

Dear Benson family,

It is with heavy hearts we have to inform you of the death of William Benson. He died in a revolt, trying to negotiate with their leaders. They claim it was an accident. A funeral will be held March 8th.

Our deepest regards,

Roger Caraway Finn Armstead

Tucker Marshall Rita Fisher

No. No no no no. He’s not dead. I read the letter another time to make sure. And again. Mom came out. “Any mail sweetie?” I wordlessly handed her the letter. She read, and just stood there trembling. All she said was “I’ll tell your sister.” Oh no. She’ll be a mess. I just sat in the kitchen and listened to them crying together. I put myself in her shoes. I just learned Daddy is gone. I would be bawling my eyes out. And that’s what I am doing. I crept into the room and we just sat there crying and sobbing.

The funeral was worse than anything I had ever imagined. I had to watch them lower him into the ground. Watching those stone faced workers bury my dad, and my last hope this was a trick. My sister was wracked with silent sobs. This couldn’t be worse.

Mom is a mess, so I take care of everything now. My little sister helps clean and cook sometimes, but Mom is too filled with grief to help. I feel it too, but I need to be strong. I could resent her, but I can’t. I put myself in her place. She just lost her husband, no warning. She saw him buried in a field, never to come back to her. She just needs time to cope. I need time to cope.

It’s been three months since Dad. Mom’s gotten better, but it still hurts. I resent every one of his comrades that says “It’s fine.” It’s not. Not all of them do it, but some do. I hate it. Everyone who’s anyone at school teases me, but I never tell Mom. She’s too fragile for anything else to worry her. My sister understands that. We silently agree what to tell and what not to tell. 

It’s almost been a year. On his birthday we brought flowers to his grave. I feel better now. I know that he’s up in heaven, with the rest of my family. I don’t care when popular girl Jessica Blaine taunts me about the daddy daughter dance. Like she even cares. Ha! I just realized I haven’t cared ever about what she said. Just where and when. Right after his funeral? Not so hot. After I coped? Much better. No matter how much I miss him, he’s up there now. He probably saved lives, so I’m happy. 

My sister (now seven years old!) never got teased. Elementary school is so much better than high school. No popular girls, easier class, not as much like a tank full of piranhas with social rankings. I miss the good old days. It might not have been pure, but cleaner than here. I caught a peek of Lindsey Snider the chess club president making out with Tyler Watts our football star under the bleachers. I ran away as fast as I could. Dad’s spirit will always live on in my heart, helping me with the tough life of high school. Full of bullies, social ranks, and bad hair days escalating into a super sized extra sucky bad day. He will support me. I might miss him, but no matter what he will be with our family. :)