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PT 5: The Last Thing You Do.

Before they took him away, they handed me everything he was wearing.  His personal items they sat on the tv counter.

I didn’t pay any mind to it then, again going through the motions of making calls, handling his affairs and trying to just keep it together.

His IPhone was sitting by his computer.  Fuckin IPhone 4 that he barely knew how to use.  Eccentric maniac that only bought it because quote “it’s shiny!”

I wasn’t there when he left.  I grabbed his IPhone and sat with it after they took him away.  Looking through the call history.  The last call he made was to a local cab driving company just five hours earlier.  I kept asking myself: was he calling to go to the hospital?  Was he just going to get something to eat?  Or did he know something was wrong and didn’t want to say anything to alarm Fabian and the kids?  The TV was on so at some point he just faded.

I should have been there.  I should have fuckin been there.

So for this past year, I’m constantly thinking about death.  I put out a life insurance policy, revised my will, made sure the people that need to have access to my bank accounts do if something happens to me; dotted all my I’s and crossed my T’s.  Just wanting to make sure that my family is taken care of when I’m gone.

Sometimes I find myself waiting for it.  On borrowed time knowing that it can be over tomorrow at the snap of someones fingers.  And then I look at my kids. I hear my nephew sing blues clues, I get a hug from my husband, I laugh with my sister.  And I say “I wanna fuckin live.”

The fight in my father had left him.  He had a spirit that his body couldn’t keep up with.  And every day he woke up he would think of it as him “making it another day”

His death made me want to live my life.  His sacrifice made me want to be a better person than what I was to the right people.  Fuckin 33 years old and sitting in front of a computer worrying about other peoples trivial bullshit.  7 of those years wasted on people who mean nothing.  Allowing myself to get caught up in the ex husbands excuses and headaches.  No Mas.

The last thing I do, will be the first thing I do every day when I wake up.

Fuckin Live.



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