I remember playing in my room when I was 8, and my dad came in. He sat next to me and started whispering. A few minutes later, he stood up and said, “Don’t ever leave mom alone, okay?” He kissed my head and left.
A few minutes later, my mom came in, looking very worried. She grabbed me, trying to stay calm, but I could see something was wrong. Through her tears, she told me that my dad had died that morning. It was the saddest day of my life, and it still doesn’t make sense. My dad had visited me in the afternoon—so how could he have died that morning?
