4 years ago exactly, I was spending the day with my dad and we had each other in hysteric laughs on and off. That's something about my dad that I love so much: he is me. And we both think, we both feel, and we try to solve universal problems like scholars. On this particular day, however, it was just us spending time together, smiling. As the sun began to set and the air was getting crisp we passed a wreck and began joking about being heroes and saving the people inside because he could run fast and I was super strong in our fantasy world.
Now, this probably all seems really stupid, as do the majority of day to day conversations. But this particular exchange of words will always have importance to me because it would be a while before we were happy together again.
The body pulled out of that car would be a boy, a 17 year old. Kurry. He would sit next to me at lunch, but never again. He would make everyone in the proximity laugh, but never again. He was just gone. Not many people realize how it effects an individual when someone just disappears.
This is the day that changed my life. Not because of his death, but because it was the start of a chain of events that no one had the power to stop. A chain of events that I would spend countless hours, that I was supposed to be sleeping, crying over.
And today, I don't feel sad.
I don't feel much of anything.
And I can't decide why.
Somber.
I don't find myself wishing he was alive for my sake.
For his mothers? Yes. For his little brothers? Yes.
But I know it will never be for me again.
Today, I am sad for everyone else. I am especially sad for my older sister who, before she had dropped out, had become closer to him than I would ever be.
And for me, he's just a missing person.
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