The worst day of my life

I originally wrote this back in May, but I'm moving it here because this is where it belongs.

Sunday, September 14, 1997

2 days before my 17th birthday.
My mom is out of town. I don’t remember where or why.
My sister is in Chicago. A Blockbuster meeting. She was a store manager.
It’s just me and my dad.
"Can we order a pizza?" I say.
"Sure."
We order from Marco’s.
To this day, I can’t see a Marco’s menu without remembering.
"Can I have some friends over for my birthday on Tuesday?"
"Sure."

He talks on the phone to my mom. "I love you" he says, as he hangs up.
He talks on the phone to my sister. "I love you" he says, as he hangs up.
He talked to a few other people.
Who? I don’t exactly remember.
I do remember that he said "I love you."
It was odd.
Him saying that… it was odd.
I should have known.
"Hey. Since mom’s gone, can I park my car in the garage?"
"No. I have to do some work on my car tonight." He says.
"Tonight?" It’s like 10 o’clock.
I think it’s odd, but I don’t say anything.
I should have known.

I walk up the stairs, to bed.
"You heading up?" he says.
"Yeah." I say.
"Goodnight."
"’Night."
The last words.

Monday, September 15, 1997

I wake up.
I smell something funny, but dismiss it.
I shower and get ready for school.
I go to leave.
There’s a note on the door.
"I spilled some oil and gas in the garage. Use the front door."
My heart sinks.
I know.

I race upstairs.
To their bedroom.
A pillow lies in his place.
To disguise.
I know.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m all alone.
I’m in shock.
I drive to school.
Meet my friend at her locker, as usual.
"It’s my dad. He’s dead." I say.
She doesn’t understand.
She walks with me to the office.
"My dad. He killed himself. I know."
They look at me, in shock.
They call the police.
I sit in the office.
I’m all alone.
After an eternity, the principal comes in.
"Jennifer, I’m sorry to tell you…
your fears were correct."
I break down.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m all alone.

Later that day, I’m back at the house.
My mom returns.
"What happened here? What happened this weekend?"
She sobs.
I don’t know what to say.
I should have known.
My sister returns.
My mom and her embrace.
I’m on the outside.
Still in shock.
I don’t know what to do.

The next days are a blur.
I don’t remember much.
"Oh god. Today’s your birthday." My mom says.
I don’t care.

The weeks float by.
They are angry.
"How could he do this?" They say.
I’m not angry.
I understand.
We’re so much alike, he and I.
The same sense of humor, the same perfectionist nature.
The same disease, the same depression.
The same suicidal tendencies.
I understand him.
In a way they don’t…
and never will.

If I had known…
Would I have stopped him?
My mind says Yes.
My heart says No.
I know what he was going through.
The desperation, the despair.
Nothing is ever going to get better.
I’m better off dead.
At least then the pain will stop.

I’m not angry with him, I understand him.
But something keeps me weeping to this day…
He never told me he loved me
And I never told him either.