If you've ever thought, "Can things get any worse?", well they can. As I recovered from a torturous evening, I never thought it could have gotten worse, but it did. I received a phone call from my Aunt Nicki, who was my father's sister. She told me that my father was very sick and in the hospital and wanted to talk to me. I was floored! Confusion and anguish set in. How could he be getting married if he was sick? What did he want to talk to me about? As these thoughts scattered throughout my head I knew deep down in my heart I needed to call him, but I didn't want to. I was still angry from the night before and wasn't quite sure what I would even say. Somehow I found the courage to pick up the phone and call my father.
As I looked at the number my aunt had given me, sweat poured through my hands. I was afraid. I didn't know actually what I was about to face. I kind of knew that this might be the last time I got to talk to my father. Turns out it was. I still remember what he said. These tones of pain and regret had so resonated my heart as a kid. My father cried like a newborn child continuously as he had so many times before. But this time was different. As my father cried out, "I'm sorry", there was a finality to his voice, as if this would be the end. Turns out that my father was terminally ill. His organs and the rest of his body were failing him fast. He told me that he was sorry and to watch after my sister Desiree, and that was all I got. I got no explanations for what he had done my entire life. I still held onto hope of having a chance to speak to him one more time. Time was running out fast though.
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