my father passed away many years ago. but, i still remember my first day of school. my four year old self, eager about the new friends i’d be making, and what my new teacher was like.

it was a bright sunny California morning, everyone was all smiles, rushing into their new classes. i remember, only a few parents [including my own] stuck around til’ the last goodbye before school was to start. in my clasroom, sitting on the carpet were my soon to be friends, gathered around the teacher. i was outside the door, ready to learn.

without asking i went in, and sat down, backpack still on my back. i remember being one of the last kids to enter the classroom.

only a few minutes went by, too fixated on what’s before me, my mother comes storming in, her face more upset than was mad. she bent down to my level, her voice straight telling me to go outside and give my father a proper goodbye.

little reluctant, i obliged to her request. when i was guided out by my mother, i was surprised to see my father crying…

tears ran down his cheeks, his eyes were hooded, staring at the ground. i walked slowly into him, and wrapped my arms around him.

i told him not to cry, that i was sorry, and i’d see him later on that day. as he sniffled, his arms snaked around my frail body. he said nothing, but my mother did…

she told me how it wasnt nice to not say goodbye to either of them. with my sorry puppy dog face, she came in for a hug.

my father held onto me, awhile longer after i told him goodbye and she had let go. i remember no other parents were around, no sounds were heard, just my father finally content.

after he let go, i was lightly looked down by my teacher, and a few students peeking behind the door. i remember, my mother explaining to her that my father apparently took a stab to the heart, when i didn’t say or hugged him goodbye. i remember feeling guilty as the words rolled off her tongue. so i hugged him again before i settled back into class.